To Forge the Future
by elle-nora
Summary: Now complete! Sequel to The Artist's Loving Hand. Twelve years following the events of that novel, the time for answers has arrived. Follow Duncan, Methos, Amanda, Joe and others, along with OC's Eleanor and Derrick as the search begins. Please Read and R
1. Prologue

_**To Forge the Future**_

"_... Come my friends,  
__'Tis not too late, to seek a newer world.  
__Push off, and sitting well in order smite  
__The sounding furrow; for my purpose holds  
__To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths  
__Of all western stars, until I die._"

from **_Ulysses_** by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

**Prologue**

**California 14 June, 2023:**

Derrick opened his eyes onto blackness… and pulled in a breath unlike any that he could ever before recall. He felt starved for air… as if his lungs held nothing at all. In a blinking moment… it came back to him. He'd died… and now he'd returned… immortal.

In the years since he'd left Ellie in Paris… he'd seldom thought of his own status. Indeed… he'd focused so clearly on living each day as it happened… in experiencing each new event… in learning all he could… that his own status as a possible immortal… reborn into the world… had faded even as the life memories of the immortal Darius had faded.

It had been years since he'd been troubled by memories of things that once were… or voices that commented on the events around him with an old and knowing countenance.

Derrick had signed aboard a cargo ship out of Le Havre back in 2011 and had moved between ships as they'd circled the globe. He'd worked in engine rooms, in radio rooms, even as steward or ship's cook on some ships. He'd been a machinist's mate, a welder, and even a carpenter once. After he'd learned all he could… and seen as much as he could in that lifestyle… he'd moved on to factory work… farm work… in short, anything he could find to do with his hands. For the last few years… he'd worked on an oil drilling platforms in the North Sea, the Gulf of Mexico, and the Pacific Rim. In those places he'd worked long hard hours in a rough environment. And he'd watched… and listened… and learned.

The money in that last job had been great… an unexpected bonus! Duncan MacLeod had long ago set up a Swiss bank account for Derrick to deposit his earnings into… or to draw from if the need arose. In truth… Derrick had no idea how much money he had. He'd learned long ago to simply accept his pay… put most of it into the account… give some to people he met who seemed in need, and live frugally on the rest.

A few times a year, he'd mailed postcards to Ellie's postal box in Geneva. He had no idea where she and Methos were likely living… nor had he attempted to find out. Derrick had been focused on living his own life. While he still cared for his "big sister" and her family… Derrick had felt it was time to live his own life… and not be involved with the immortals or their lives. To his knowledge… he'd not seen or talked to another immortal in the intervening twelve years.

But then… it was not immortals that he could sense or identify… it never had been. It was only people who were a threat to him. About them… as always… he had a sense of their aura … a rumble of black shot through sometimes with red. About people despondent and in need… he saw one of gray… and about people filled with the joy of life… a bright white light. The yellowish light about the sick and the dying he could also read… but he'd seldom noticed it except when he'd wandered the back streets of the world's seaports. Such trips had usually depressed him. He'd felt an overwhelming need to somehow ease their pain. But there were so many of them… and he was only one man. He'd had no idea how to begin.

Aboard ship… in the factories, the farms, and on the oil platforms… he'd seen mainly the healthy. While some of them were dangerous… he'd read them and either stayed out of their way… or dealt with them in a manner which had eased the relationship between them. Recently, though, despite his reluctance to do so, he'd decided to check out the interior of the United States. Perhaps in smaller, more rural areas, the concentration of the sick and dying would not be so great. And there were sights of nature that he'd long wanted to see.

He'd purchased the jet cycle when he'd left the last job two months ago in San Diego. It had been one of his few luxuries over the years. Sleek and fast… fuel-efficient… it had offered him an ease of transportation… and a feel of freedom. He could move about where he wished and keep a low profile. Besides which… the jet cycle had a DNA key system. It took his breath, his fingerprint, and his password to start… otherwise… it never would. DNA key systems were the wave of the future the salesman had told him. Anyone attempting to move the jet cycle would also set off a rather loud alarm.

Derrick supposed that was what he heard in the distance. Evidently someone had tried to move it.

Gingerly he reached up and felt the rough surface of the inside of the body bag he was likely in. He sighed… evidently his body had been found. He knew enough to know that he'd have to vanish… but wondered who else was about.

Surprisingly… his memories of the accident and his death were clear in his mind. He'd once heard someone recovering from a bad accident mention that he could not recall it… nor many of the events that led to it… or the early stages of recovery. But Derrick's memory was crystal clear.

Rounding a bend on the mountain road, he'd stopped as he'd seen the semi careen across the lanes… bump the braking van so that it did a one-eighty and crashed into the safety barrier… hanging at a precipitous angle. The semi had roared past him and had launched momentarily into the air before crashing into the ravine. A fireball had erupted into the sky. As the sound of the exploding semi had faded, Derrick had become aware of a woman screaming from the van.

He'd pulled off his helmet, shut the jet cycle off, and then raced up the road toward the van, which was slowly beginning to slide into the ravine.

"Help me!" the woman screamed.

Derrick had managed to yank the driver's door open. She was pregnant; blood-dribbled from a gash on her head… her seatbelt wouldn't unfasten… and she was desperate. Derrick pulled out his switchblade, sliced the seatbelt and had pulled her free.

She turned and reached back… still hysterical. "My baby!"

Derrick had pushed her back toward the road and then had climbed into the van… noting that he'd likely have only seconds before the van broke through the last remaining wire of the barrier and plunged into the ravine. He could hear the baby screaming. Behind the passenger seat he found him… strapped into the child seat… uninjured… but terrified.

Even as he released the straps and pulled the small boy into his arms… Derrick had felt the van slide forward. He'd desperately tossed the boy into his mother's arms and then attempted to leap free himself… He'd actually leaped out… but the van was already on its way down… and he'd plummeted after it… to be caught in the blast of the explosion. He'd felt the heat… he'd felt the sudden lifting and then the swift drop. He'd felt his body slam onto the sand and rock… the explosion of pain… and then nothing.

Straining, he listened to the sounds beyond the small world of darkness he lay in. Besides the piercing _thrum_ of the jet cycle's alarm, he could hear a siren, what sounded like a jet copter making a landing, and distant voices. Possibly no one was close-by.

Derrick fingered the zipper and maneuvered it slowly down. The sounds increased in volume… but so did the feel of fresh night air. He drew in another breath, reveling in it. He pushed the zipper further down and then waited. Finally… when he heard no surprise or comments… Derrick pushed the bag open and sat up.

He saw one yellow slicker-covered patrolman… his back to him… illuminated by the flashing lights of the patrol car on the road above, and the dying flames of the nearby crash. Someone up on the road was shining a search light at the jet copter and at a level area on the road above where it could land.

Rising to his feet… Derrick noted the burned nature of his leathers. It had been bad… but he wasn't surprised. He stepped carefully from the bag and crouched as he backed away from the patrolman. He didn't quite make it.

The man turned, evidently hearing something. His face registered surprise and confusion. Derrick raised a finger to his lips in the international symbol of "_Shhhhhh!_" Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the desert.

Some distance later, he turned back to the road and climbed out of the ravine. He'd followed the sound of the jet cycle's alarm. Peering above the rim of the road… he saw two patrolmen head toward the descending jet copter.

No one else was about.

Attaining the road, Derrick crossed to his cycle, flipped open the keypad, blew into the screen, pressed his left thumbprint against it and then tapped in his security code. The alarm ceased. He climbed on… grabbed his helmet, shoved it onto his head, started the ignition and raced off… back the way he'd come. He supposed there would be questions… and a wild story in the tabloid news about the vanished dead man… but it was the best he could come up with for the moment. He needed a room and a shower… and a place to plan his next move.

-----

"Crash and burn?" the night clerk behind the desk of the cheap motel whistled.

Derrick nodded as he signed in. His wallet was missing… evidently the police had collected that. But… he'd had a back-up identity and cash hidden in his belongings on the jet cycle. Derrick Foster was dead. He signed in as Rick Gray.

Once in the room… he dropped the still-padlocked duffel containing his belongings onto the bed and entered the bathroom, flipping on the light. He got a good look at himself then in the flickering fluorescent glaring on the cheap white tile. The fire had burned half of his beard and long hair from one side of his head. His face was smoke-blackened… but otherwise uninjured. He ran his tongue over his teeth. Apparently he still had all of them. His clothes were charred and in tatters. Surprisingly… he felt fine. He chuckled and shook his head. Of course he was fine… he was immortal.

He started the shower and let the water run until steam filled the small bathroom. Derrick peeled off the remnants of his clothes and dropped them onto the floor… then he entered the shower and let the blessed heat caress him. He grabbed the bar of soap… ripped off the paper and worked up lather. Then he washed away all the remnants of the accident… smoke, blood, and scabs. Beneath it all… he was smooth and whole. He noted only the one thin white scar on his right forearm that had been there for years… where Ellie had sliced his arm open that one time.

Afterwards, he pulled out his shaving kit and a pair of scissors. There was nothing else for it now. Slowly he hacked away at the remaining hair. Soon, only a sandy buzz covered his scalp and chin. He pulled out his old razor and applied some of the soap lather. Then he scraped his chin clean and smooth. The deeply tanned face that looked back at him now had a pale jaw. It would even up soon he hoped. He'd always tanned easily. Derrick was almost surprised at the face that looked back at him… the strong jaw line… the aquiline nose, the high forehead. For a moment he'd had the fleeting sensation that it wasn't his face… but someone else's. That was silly, of course… he was only himself. It had just been years since he'd been without a beard or had bothered to cut his hair short.

Turning out the light… Derrick returned to the main room. He felt around for the Great Sword… still secured in its foam case at the bottom of the duffel. At least that was still safe. He pulled it free of its scabbard and held it before him… Then he began to loosen up with it… using the moves he'd once learned from Methos… and then later the ones he'd learned from a dozen or so martial arts and weapons masters he'd studied with over the years. It had been his one nod to the life he might have to face one day. He'd understood he needed to know how to wield the sword… and to practice. Thankfully… a number of others first aboard the various ships and later on the oil platforms had had similar interests. A few had even had swords. He'd sparred with most of them… easily winning. But then… those matches had been for practice and fun… none had been more than that. And no one had taken them seriously.

His workout finished… Derrick lay the unsheathed sword close to the bed. He supposed he'd have to keep it handy from now on. His workouts would have to be a daily part of his routine now. Sitting on the bed he pulled out the old velvet bag containing the crystal. It lay in his palm as dull as it had for years. He'd wondered if once he became immortal... if he become immortal… it would suddenly light up as it had when he was a child and offer him all the knowledge he'd ever need. It didn't. It was only a hunk of milky quartz. He replaced it in its bag and shoved it back into the duffel.

Derrick flipped the lights off… and stretched onto the bed… roughly pushing the duffel to the floor. He was tired… and he needed to sleep. After all… tomorrow would be the first day of his new life. He had plans to make.

-----

**Paris, Watcher Headquarters, one week later:**

"Dr. Meyers?"

A soft knock accompanied the voice of Daniel Beale as he waited for acknowledgment. Amy Meyers looked up from her computer console and gestured him to enter. Leaning back in the chair, she reached forward to save the manuscript she was working on. "What's up?"

Daniel held out a fax. "We got a live one," he said with a smile.

Amy accepted the fax film and stared at the reproduced copy of an article from **_Weekly World News_**… one of the tabloid newspapers. **Christ Returns** read the headline. The first paragraph then went on to give the account of several witnesses detailing the sacrifice of a man who had saved a woman and child from death… died… and then rose from the dead… vanishing before a stunned witness. Accompanying the article was a license photo of the bearded young man.

Amy shrugged. "An immortal."

Daniel nodded. "But not one we have in the files. Either he's one we've never known… or he's new."

Amy chuckled. It was an ongoing discussion in Watchers as to whether or not there were or would be any additional immortals. After all… things for them had changed a great deal in the years since Henry Rawlins had inadvertently precipitated a gathering in his attempts to create a new breed of immortal… a breed free of the imperative of the game.

Many of the surviving immortals had banded together in loosely knit communities… or had otherwise withdrawn from mortal society as they'd focused on the knowledge they'd gained… that they were connected to one another on some psychic level. That it was that need to be connected that had been perverted over the millennia into the taking of one another's quickening and power.

Oh… there were certainly still challenges among the immortals. Some had not been impressed by the knowledge… and others had denied the claims of those who'd been involved and survived. For many… the game went on as it always had.

But since that day… and the Watchers had kept very good records… there were fewer and fewer new immortals. All of them had one thing in common. They were born before 1986.

"So this is one we missed a few years ago," Amy said with a shrug, noting that the young man was approximately thirty years of age. "He's likely young… and we didn't pick up on him a few years ago… it happens. Get someone on him." She handed the fax back and returned to her computer… letting her fingers caress the smooth keypad. She noted Daniel had not left.

Quizzically she glanced up at him. "Is there something else?"

Daniel fingered the thin film, thoughtfully licking his lips. "I'm not certain."

Amy leaned back once more. "Look Daniel, he's in America. Make certain Gene Dawkins gets a copy of the fax. I'd say this young immortal will show up again." She waved a dismissal and returned to her writing. As head Methos chronicler… as well as Paris coordinator… she had a lot of work to do.

Daniel nodded and lay the fax film on her desk. "Actually this came from Dawkins' office. I'd say he just wanted to give the rest of us a head's up."

"Then consider it given," Amy said with a smile. She was anxious to return to her manuscript. Daniel took the hint and left.

Amy was deep into the Punic Wars when she heard another knock. Glancing up she grinned to see her husband and fellow Watcher, Burt Meyers. She eagerly saved the manuscript and rose to embrace him. "Welcome home," she murmured as she kissed him. "I missed you."

"How much?" Burt chuckled as he closed her office door behind him and then turned his attention to letting her show him just how much. Moments later he breathed out raggedly. "Wow! And they say marriage and romance are dead," he managed. He glanced around the office wondering if maybe they could attempt something more than some heavy petting and an impassioned kiss.

Amy lightly slapped his face as she pulled loose. "Enough for now!" She winked at him, "I'm taking the afternoon off and we are going home. With luck… we'll have an hour before the twins get home from school."

"What about Joe?" Burt whispered nuzzling her neck from behind as she hurriedly gathered some papers from her desk and stuffed them into her _attaché _case.

"Somehow I don't think he'll object. In fact… he might even keep the twins occupied for another hour… or maybe two." Amy turned in his embrace, putting her hands about his neck. She winked at him.

"Scandalous," teased Burt as he reluctantly stepped back to let her close up and lock her desk and computer down for the night.

Amy stuck her tongue out and waved it around suggestively. Burt felt like tackling her. It had been a long two weeks overseeing the surveillance training of the latest class of Watchers. He'd missed his wife… and he'd missed their children.

"How are the kids? Anything new?"

Amy grabbed her _attaché_ with one hand and slipped the other arm into one of his as they left. "Oh you know teenagers… Everything is a crisis."


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

**Santa Fe, New Mexico, one week later:**

Amber Kathleen Conroy glanced up from the bar where she was steadying drinks on a tray… aware that she'd nearly dropped the whole shebang when the immortal had entered. She'd barely seen him. A tall man, hunched over, who'd stood stark still looking around as if he'd never felt another immortal before, stared at her with wide curious eyes.

_A newbie?_ she wondered. It had been decades since she'd seen a newbie. She met his gaze, nodded, and finished serving the drinks to her table. After collecting the payment and tips… she'd wandered in the immortal's direction. He'd found a table near the back wall and was eyeing her blankly. She slapped a napkin on the table. "What can I get ya," she asked.

He took a deep breath and smiled. "Jack… neat. Make it a double."

"Ya act like ya never met one of us before?" she pushed.

He nodded. "Well… you're the first I ever felt."

Amber's eyes widened slightly. "Ya're new then." She waited while he nodded. "I've a break comin' up. I'll take it with ya. Stay here." He nodded again. "I'll be gettin ya a drink." Thoughtfully she returned to the bar… ordered for him and waited while Slim poured the drink. Her heart was beating more loudly than the sounds of the boisterous Friday night crowd.

The country-western music blared on the jukebox and the voices of the drunk and slightly disorderly were a loud blare in her ears. And yet… everything paled in the face of this immortal. If he was new… he needed to know things… Amber wasn't certain that she was the one to teach him. Idly she wondered just who she was in contact with that might be willing to take on a student.

Collecting the drink, she yelled at Slim that she was taking her break… and returned to set the stranger's glass before him. She settled into the other chair.

After he'd taken a good drink from it, he looked at her and smiled, saying nothing.

"My name's Amber…" she finally said, "although I use Connie around here these days."

"Derrick… although my ID currently says Rick."

"Ya know what ya are then?" Amber asked. It was rare for a newbie to seem so calm and collected in the face of his recent death. Perhaps he didn't know.

The young immortal nodded and sipped his whiskey. He set the glass down. "I was raised by one of us and her husband. So I have some idea as to how things go."

"Have ya a sword?"

He nodded.

"But ya've not had to use it?"

He smiled as he shook his head. "As I said… you're the first I've ever felt."

"When did ya last see this immortal who raised ya?"

Derrick shrugged. "About twelve years ago. I don't even know where they are now."

"So ya've no one to turn to for real trainin'?" When he shook his head, Amber leaned back thoughtfully in the chair. She met his piercing blue gaze and for a moment, she was startled. She'd never known anyone who stared at her so forcefully as if she was the only person in the world. This Derrick was focused entirely upon her and what she had to say. Then his eyes moved slightly as if he were focused on something around her. He met her gaze again and smiled. She was a bit surprised at her next words. "Have ya a place to stay tonight?"

"No… not yet. I was going to see about renting a motel room after I'd had a drink or two… to wet down the dust in my throat."

Amber ran one hand through her amber hair… tucking a lock that had managed to escape the barrette, behind one ear. "If ya'd like… ya can bed down at my place. It's upstairs. Bein' as ya're so new… I can't be lettin' ya head off without some help. There's a few of us in the area… and some are a might nasty."

He smiled. "That would be nice."

Amber shook her head. "Oh… I'm not offerin' more than a place to sleep… ya understand."

Derrick shrugged. "Of course."

"I need to be gettin' back to work now. Ya stay here." She rose, the small tray in her hands.

He finished his drink and handed her the empty glass. "Thanks!" Then he leaned back in the chair and just seemed to watch the Friday night crowd with a thoughtful expression on his face. Throughout the evening… he kept a tab going… and sipped slowly at his drinks as he simply observed the people about him. Amber wondered what it was he was looking at… or if he were simply still so new at immortality… that he was gazing in wonder at the mortals around him… knowing they would die… and that he would live on.

It worried her some that he already had a sword. Likely a gift of the couple who'd raised him… although that in itself was unusual. Generally… if she found a pre-immortal… and she admittedly hadn't in decades… she just noted them and moved on. So did most of the others she'd known. The words of her teacher, Connor MacLeod… dead at the dawn of this century… whispered in her head.

"_It's better not to get too close to any of us Katie-girl. Never forget… you might have to face one of us in combat some day. You might not have a choice in it_."

As a result… other than Connor… and a handful of others… she'd never really spent time with other immortals. She'd made some friends about a dozen years ago that she was still in occasional contact with… but she'd never dared to take a student… understanding that having to kill a student someday… might be even worse than having to kill a friend … or a lover.

As the night wound down… and the crowd thinned out… Derrick remained quietly at his back table… just observing the others. When the bartender readied to close the doors… the young immortal rose and stepped out into the night… gathered a long duffle bag from his bike… and waited for her to finish up.

Once done… she waved goodnight to Slim and left. She motioned to Derrick to follow her up the steep wooden stairs at the side of the building and let him into her sparsely furnished rooms.

"The couch I'm told is tolerable for sleepin'," she said, turning a lamp on. "I'll get ya some sheets and a blanket." She pulled the spare set from the closet and handed them to him. "Just so ya know. My door'll be locked and I'll have my sword at my side if'n ya have any ideas."

Derrick smiled warmly. "I'm certain that won't be necessary." He thanked her for the linens and set them on the couch. "Bathroom?"

"Through there," Amber pointed then retired to her bedroom… throwing the deadbolt to be certain. She was uneasy… and couldn't for the life of her, understand just why she'd asked him up. "Ya're a bloody fool Katie girl!" she said… recalling her impetuous invitation to the young immortal. But if he was a newbie… he really shouldn't be out there on his own. At least… not yet! She changed for bed… pulling on her light flannel pants and the tank top she usually slept in… and settled in for the night.

An hour later Amber slammed her fists against the mattress. She desperately needed to use the bathroom. In her haste to put a locked door between Derrick and herself… she'd forgotten to go… and the longer she lay here with it on her mind… the worse it got. Finally… with no other option… she rose… tied her flannel robe around her and picked up her sword… purely as a precaution.

Undoing the bolt she slowly opened the door.

In the pale moonlight pouring through the blinds of the double window… she did not see him on the couch as expected. Amber grasped the lightweight cutlass in both hands and slowly entered the room. As her eyes adjusted… she saw him sit up from the floor. The moonlight played over his bare chest. He seemed at ease.

"Is that for me?" Derrick asked.

Amber's mouth worked up and down. "No… I just like to be careful when there's a strange immortal about."

"Oh." His voice was non-committal. He seemed amused at her actions.

"I'm sorry to have awakened ya." She crossed to the bathroom and shut the door as she flipped on the lights. Heaving in relief… she leaned against the door and shook her head. Once finished… she turned the lights out and opened the door.

Derrick was lying on his back… his hands behind his head.

"Don't ya find that uncomfortable?" Amber asked pausing to stand over him.

In the dim moonlight he turned his head to face her. "A carry-over from my childhood, I suppose. I used to prefer sleeping on the floor in strange places… especially if I was worried about something," he laughed. "I can recall putting a sheet over the chairs and making a tent."

"Tell me about them?" Amber asked thoughtfully, "These immortals ya knew."

He seemed to shrug. "The woman was my sister… or I have always thought of her as my older sister. I lived with her from the time I was about six. Then her husband joined us… I saw her fight and take a head once. After that they told me about immortals and what they were."

"But they didn't tell ya what ya were?" There was a hint of worry in her voice.

Derrick raised up on one elbow and laughed. "No… but I think I must have wondered about it. I recall burning my hand once to see if I'd heal."

Amber knelt on the floor next to him. "Strange they kept you with them. Most of us find it dangerous to have pre-immortals around."

"She was my sister," Derrick said with a shrug as if that explained everything.

Amber was aware that he was gazing at her intently. For the second time this night she felt like all of his attention was focused on her and what she might be thinking. She sat back and looked out the windows at the clear Santa Fe night. After some time she shook her head. "So you are one of the few who grew up knowin' about us… but not really prepared to be one of us."

"Something like that." His voice was quiet… non-threatening. Amber stared into his face… aware that despite the darkness… she could see his blue eyes in the moonlight… eyes so blue that for a moment she was lost in them. She felt as if she could trust him. Slowly she leaned forward until her lips brushed his. Startled, she halted and pulled back. He waited… making no move. Slowly, thoughtfully… Amber leaned in again to kiss him once more… pleased when he kissed her back.

Slowly she lifted one hand to the side of his face. One of his gently slipped inside her robe and maneuvered her onto her back. He leaned down over her and kissed her firmly then pulled up. "Are you certain?" he asked.

Amber nodded and pulled him down for another kiss already anticipating much more.

-----

Amber awoke… aware that Derrick was no longer next to her. She stretched contentedly. The gray light of dawn was banishing the shadows in the room. The floor had been a surprisingly comfortable place to sleep.

Aware of him moving… she sat up and pulled the blanket around her bare breasts as she watched him go through a _kata_… a stylized warm-up with a large two-handed broadsword. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him move… he seemed far more capable than some newbie who was just beginning an immortal life.

The sword flashed in the sunlight as he maneuvered it back and forth… thrusting… turning… slashing… and shifting it from hand to hand as he turned. He paused in a lunge and glanced at her as if just noticing her. He stood straight up… the sword held easily in both hands before him.

Amber tilted her head and brushed her amber hair back from her eyes. "Is that for me?" she asked in amusement.

"Sorry," Derrick said kneeling beside her with a wide grin. "I like to work out first thing. It clears my mind and helps me focus on the day ahead." He lay the sword on the floor behind him and teasingly kissed the end of her nose lightly.

"Aye… first thing is always good." She glanced at the kitchen. "Do ya drink coffee? I have some instant."

"Instant is fine. Perhaps I should shower." He rummaged in his bag for some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Amber pulled her discarded sleepwear on and retied her robe as she filled the teakettle with water and rummaged in her cabinets for the makings of a light breakfast. She had little… she seldom was up this early… usually sleeping in until early afternoon after a late night working the bar. She was surprised how rested she felt. How contented she was this morning.

She'd never had an immortal lover. Her teacher, Connor had always warned her against taking one. She'd been surprised at how very hard and firm Derrick had felt… almost as if he were made of stone. And yet… she'd never known such soft kisses… such gentle caresses… such an intense lover… who seemed more focused on her pleasure… than on his own. Even now… she felt alive and aroused… almost wishing he'd made love to her again this morning.

The shower stopped, and he emerged from the bathroom shortly later… dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He flashed her a smile as he knelt to repack his bag and pull on socks and boots.

She stirred his coffee. "Do ya take anything with it?"

Rising he took the cup from her hands. "Black is fine."

"Ya pullin' out then?" Amber gestured toward the duffel.

"Yes."

"Oh." Amber's disappointment filtered through that one word. She glanced at the floor.

"Come with me."

"What?" Amber laughed. "I have a life here."

Derrick shrugged with a smile… and sipped at the coffee. He leaned against the counter and looked at her evenly… his eyes never leaving her face.

Amber brushed her hair out of face… aware that she was blushing. "I can't just pick up and go."

"Suit yourself." He finished the coffee and set the cup down. Then he reached for his duffel and slung it over his shoulder. He waited… as if considering how to say goodbye. Leaning forward he kissed her. "It was nice. Thank you." He smiled as he backed away and turned toward the door.

Amber watched it close behind him. "Ya're a fool Katie girl!" she mumbled and opened it to step out onto the landing. Derrick was halfway down the stairs. "Wait… I'll go. I can't let a newbie such as yourself go off on his own. 'Twouldn't be right."

He paused and looked back at her with a smile. "Then I'll wait for you if that's what you want."

"Aye… you wait." She flounced back into her rooms and laughed at the silliness she felt. Then she hurriedly dressed and packed. "No doubt about it Katie girl… ya're actin' like a damned fool!" But she secured her sword in her long coat, and left without a backward glance… and no regrets.

She climbed onto the rear of the jet cycle and clasped her arms about him… leaning against his hard lean body. Amber Kathleen Conroy had never felt happier in her two hundred and fifty-seven years.

-----

**_Chateau _de Valicourt:**

Robert de Valicourt tiptoed into their bedroom and set the crystal vase of pink roses on the night table. He sat gently on the bed and smiled at Gina… his wife. Her dark eyes opened and she giggled at him… rising slowly to kiss him so passionately that he found himself returning that kiss and… trying to get his clothes off at the same time.

"Really Robert!" Gina laughed as he pulled back slightly… a stubborn button preventing his graceful divestiture of clothes. "One would think we were newlyweds!"

"In a way… we are… my beautiful wife." He ripped at the shirt… hearing the stubborn button bounce somewhere on the floor. All he wanted was her… and nothing else mattered… nothing at all.

-----


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two  
****Outskirts of Tucson, AZ, two days later:**

The jet cycle slowed as Derrick turned into a rundown shantytown area west of the city. Amber stared about at the thin, ragged residents, her nose wrinkling a bit at the stench of filth and human waste that permeated the air.

"Why are we stopping here?" she asked Derrick.

"To help" was all he said. He stopped the cycle and removed his helmet… shaking his head. He ran one hand over his head… wiping away the accumulated perspiration and sighed.

"It would take an awful lot of money to help these people," Amber grumbled. Since leaving Santa Fe… Derrick had stopped to purchase her a helmet, and last night had pulled off into a desert area where they'd shared a sleeping bag under the stars. As their first night… Derrick had made love to her with a practiced art.

"Have ya known many women then," she'd asked him idly afterwards.

"A few." He'd shrugged and then looked at her in wonder. "Does it matter?"

"No." She'd waited for him to ask her about hers… but he'd lain back and stared at the stars for a while before falling asleep. She'd curled up next to him and this morning… they'd hit the road early. Now… it seemed as if they'd arrived… but this shantytown was not where Amber could have foreseen their road leading.

Derrick climbed off to crouch in front of a small boy. "Can you keep an eye on her for me?" he asked the boy and nodded toward the bike. He tossed a five-dollar coin into the air. The boy grabbed it in wonder and nodded eagerly. "Keep her safe… and there'll be another in it for you… or maybe two." Derrick had risen as the boy scrambled over to sit next to the cycle. He clasped Amber's hand. "Come on… let's see who's about."

Amber followed… hugging close to Derrick. She didn't feel comfortable in this place. Hungry eyes peered from thin hollow faces and watched them pass. An old man sniffed as they walked by and then spat at the ground. A thin woman, with greasy gray locks and a gaping hole where she had once had front teeth, cackled and pointed. Three small, dark-haired, dark-eyed children, filthy, thin, barefoot, walked with them.

Then Amber felt it… an immortal presence. Immediately she raked her eyes over the abandoned cars, and other detritus of civilization. She pulled at Derrick to stop, undoing her coat for easy access to her cutlass.

"It's all right…" Derrick clasped both of her hands. "There's no danger here." He smiled. "Trust me."

Amber gazed around her hesitantly. "Ya know… for a newbie… ya have some strange ideas."

Derrick kissed her forehead, then continued along the twisted path amongst the increasingly higher piles of trash. Finally they stopped.

On a mound before them was a wild-eyed man with long dirty hair and beard, wearing a grease-spotted old coat over… faded long johns that might once have been red. He pointed in their direction. "Demons!" he shouted. "Demons walk the earth! They hunt us… They seek to steal our very souls! Beware!" His voice rang in the late afternoon air. Several of the denizens of the shantytown jeered, and waved hands at him dismissively.

Derrick dropped Amber's hand and slowly climbed the trash heap until he was within a few feet of the madman. He crouched down as the man attempted to scramble back away from him. "Demons! Come to steal our souls!" he cried out more loudly. His hands gripped an awkward length of metal. He began to swing it at Derrick.

Amber stumbled forward with a cry.

Derrick leaned back to avoid the swing of the weapon… and then reached forward and plucked it easily out of the man's hands. He tossed it to Amber.

The man screamed. "They've come for me!"

Derrick grasped the immortal's face in his hands, holding it firmly as he peered intently at him. Then he began speaking to him softly… so softly that Amber caught only part of what he said. "It's all right. No one here will hurt you. I'm your friend."

With a hint of embarrassment, Amber brushed her long hair out of her eyes and looked around… wondering if the mad immortal had a Watcher… and what he must think of all this.

Derrick managed to get the madman calmed down and had assisted him to a makeshift lean-to where the immortal curled up… mumbling and talking to himself. Derrick looked around and sighed. He grabbed Amber's hand.

"Wait here… I'm going for some food."

"Ya will not leave me here… me _boyo_!"

"I promised him one of us would be here when he woke up. He needs food. A lot of his delusions are from that. We need to eat. You can't drive the cycle. None of these cars work. Have I covered all your objections?" There was nothing accusatory in his voice… just amusement.

Amber glanced around.

"And I gather you are more than capable of defending yourself against anyone here… even him," Derrick added gently. He kissed the top of her head. "I shouldn't be long. We passed a grocery store about two miles back. I'll go there." He was off like a shot. He tossed two coins to the boy watching the cycle… climbed on, adjusted his helmet, started the ignition, and drove off before Amber could think of a single retort.

Nervously she smiled at the denizens of this place who eyed her suspiciously… slowly gathering around. Amber backed up. "I'll just keep an eye on this one until ma friend returns."

The people laughed and then went on about their business… such as it was. The old man spat. The woman cackled. Another man leered at her… but did not approach. The children wandered aimlessly through the trash.

Amber crouched down beside the rocking immortal… she refused to actually sit on anything here… listening to his mumbling. "Queen for a day! Come on down! What's behind… door number 2?" She shook her head. Evidently this fellow's mind was trapped somewhere in game-show dreamland.

Less than half an hour later… Derrick returned. He had a box of groceries strapped to the rear of the cycle. Amber sighed with relief. As he approached… Derrick tossed some apples to the children… spoke with the toothless woman and saluted the old man.

He set the box down next to Amber. "How's our friend?" he asked.

She gave him one of her patented smirks. He laughed and began unpacking food supplies.

"What do ya plan on makin'?" Amber asked as she stared at his purchases.

"Soup!" Derrick said with a grin.

Amber looked about. "We need a pot?"

"Aye… and here's one now!" Derrick gratefully accepted a dented tin pot from the toothless woman. Opening a jug of bottled water… he poured a little in… and then cleaned the interior of the pot out thoroughly. Setting it to one side… he stirred up the embers of the dying fire… added fuel, put the grate on top… then the pot… and began filling it with juice… chopped vegetables… a bone… some seasoning.

Soon… Amber noted the arrival of the others… salivating as they gathered around laughing.

"Will we be feedin' all o' them?"

Derrick nodded with a smile. "They're all hungry. It wouldn't be right to make some and not share."

The mad immortal sat up with a wild look in his eye. "_Bam!_" he said as he pretended he was tossing something into the soup.

Derrick settled beside him with a smile. "That's right! You have to season the soup!" He chuckled at some private memory. Then Amber heard him ask the immortal his name.

"Burke! Tyler Burke!" the man said. He cackled gleefully.

Amber eyed the blue sky and wondered just how it was she'd ended up in this madhouse. The toothless woman elbowed Amber's side about then and laughed. The old man spat in the dirt and glared at her with rheumy eyes. And more were on their way.

All in all… they likely fed close to twenty… although the children ate little. Big-eyed… they drank the broth and munched on the day old rolls Derrick had bought. He spoke with all of them… listening to their hopes and fears… offering what to Amber sounded like platitudes and common sense. But his words seemed to go over with them. The people nodded and seemed satisfied.

As darkness fell, and the sparks of the fire rose in the air… they gradually wandered back to their own shelters. Amber spread their sleeping bag out and crawled into it… not quite as fearful as she'd been earlier. Burke rolled into his lean-to and was soon snoring away. Derrick continued to sit by the fire… staring about. Amber turned her back on the fire… and tried to sleep. Her cutlass was beside her… within reach of her hand.

It was still dark when she awoke… not certain what had awakened her. Rolling over she saw Derrick still by the fire. Behind him she could still hear Burke's snores. Curling one hand under her head… she watched Derrick and wondered again what it was he saw and what madness had driven him to feed this group of people.

Over the fire… as if he knew she was watching him… thinking about him… he turned his face to stare at her. He stirred the fire… causing it the flames to leap high in the air… then he rose and settled on the ground next to her.

"Why did ya do this today?"

"They were hungry," he said as he leaned back against a rusted refrigerator.

Amber shook her head. "Ya canna keep doin' this. It isna safe." Her Boston Irish brogue had never seemed thicker.

"When I was a boy… my sister and I lived on the streets for a time. An immortal was after us and she thought that if we vanished onto the streets, he wouldn't find us. This is what we did." Derrick gestured about. "We watched the people around us… people who were hurt and in need… and we tried to help."

"This immortal… was he the one she had to kill?"

Derrick shook his head. "No… another immortal killed him."

Amber sat up and leaned against Derrick's side. "Her husband?"

Derrick laughed. "No… most definitely not her husband. He came later." His arm encircled her shoulders and held her, his voice taking on an odd quality. "Adam showed up later… and you could see by the way Ellie looked at him… that he was the man she loved. That he'd always been the man she loved." His voice trailed away sadly. His hand moved slowly up and down hers in a soft caress.

"So what happens tomorrow?" Amber finally asked.

"We move on."

"And why am I here?"

Derrick chuckled. "Because you wanted to come? I can't do this alone. But if you want… I'll drop you at the bus station and you can go where you want."

Amber thought about it. Then she laughed. "I canna leave ya alone out here. Not all o' us are like me or Burke there. Sooner or later ya're gonna meet up with a bad'n… and then ya'll really need ma 'elp."

She snuggled into his side… wishing they were alone. He squeezed her tightly and kissed the top of her head. She raised her face to his and kissed him back.

-----

It was singing that awakened her. Old Sal… the toothless woman… was wandering about singing to the sunshine. Children raced by… laughing. Derrick and Burke were working under the hood of a rusted old car. Derrick nodded at her with a grin.

Amber sighed… shook her head and got up… shaking the sleeping bag out carefully before folding it up and stowing it with their other things on the jet cycle. She grinned at the cycle's young guardian who flashed her a broad smile.

Sauntering back toward Derrick she stretched and thought about getting him to stop somewhere so she could get a shower. She'd been three days without one now… and she definitely needed one.

The engine of the old clunker suddenly roared to life. Burke slapped his hands together and jumped gleefully. Derrick met Amber's gaze and winked. Then he gathered his tools and stowed them in the small bag. He slung if over his shoulder as he sauntered toward her. "Ready?"

"More than ready," she said.

He nodded, slung an arm about her shoulders as they walked toward the bike. After tossing the boy some coins… he climbed on. Amber tucked her hair under her helmet and climbed on behind him. Derrick waved to the old man and headed off.

Moments later… Amber realized that the old clunker… with Burke at the wheel… was following them.

-----

**Santa Fe:**

Lisa Blackfoot tied her apron around her waist and glanced curiously about the bar. "Slim?" she asked, a bit puzzled.

Slim… re-washing some glasses glanced up. "Yeah?"

"Where's Connie tonight? Isn't she on?"

Slim shrugged. "She left here Friday night after closing… right friendly with a customer. I think she invited him up. Anyways... I found a note on the door when I came in on Saturday. She'd quit. Left me short-handed with you at your brother's wedding for the weekend."

Lisa bit her lip. "Are you sure it was her handwriting?"

Slim nodded.

"Did you check upstairs?"

Slim shrugged. "She left me the key… but I haven't had a chance." He obviously had his mind on other things.

Lisa tapped her fingers on the bar. "Humor me, Big Guy."

When he looked at her puzzled she smiled. "I might be interested in the rooms. Key?" She held her hand out and snapped her fingers before gesturing for the key.

Slim shrugged and handed it over. "Don't be long," he drawled.

"Won't take but a sec!" Lisa tossed him a teasing grin as she exited the cool dark bar and blinked momentarily in the late afternoon sunlight. Turning the door key in her hands thoughtfully… she sighed and shook her head.

Lisa climbed the stairs, used the key and entered the hot rooms… aware that they smelled a bit musty. She wandered through the two rooms and the bath… opening cabinets and checking drawers. She found nothing of interest.

Pulling a small PDA from her rear jeans pocket, Lisa entered a report and then read it over.

_Sunday--Returned from wedding. Learned subject had vanished... possibly with another immortal. Will attempt to gather additional info. No signs of a struggle._

Lisa kicked at some bedding heaped on the floor. She made a further entry.

_In fact... looks like they connected on a basic level._

Lisa grinned. If Amber Kathleen Conroy had become intimately involved with someone… it couldn't be an immortal. That was one hard fact in her chronicle over the centuries. Conroy carefully avoided close relationships with others of her kind. Lisa edited her entry removing the phrase about the man being an immortal. Satisfied for the moment… and knowing she'd have a report to make later to her supervisor that Conroy had moved on suddenly… Lisa closed and locked the door… descending the steps to do her six hours at the bar. Watcher or not… she couldn't leave Slim in a lurch. She'd file her report… tomorrow.

-----


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three  
****_The Motel Swell_, AZ, the next day:**

Amber wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror and ran a comb through her wet hair as she sighed, shaking her head with a slight chuckle. They'd gotten a room… but it hadn't been exactly what she'd expected. For one thing… Tyler Burke was still with them.

Even now she could hear his voice spouting off pop culture references from the last eighty years or so. Right now… for some reason… he was singing, "M… I… C… K… E… Y…" Amber heard Derrick's laugh and sighed once more… still trying to figure out just why she was here. Why had she broken all the rules of her immortal existence and not only taken a student… but an immortal lover… and then followed him wherever he wanted to go… as if he were the teacher… and she was the student?

She closed her eyes and recalled how he felt in her arms… his touch on her lips… his smile as he looked at her in wonder… and she knew. He was something special… and he needed her. Despite appearances to the contrary… _he_ needed _her_.

"Why is he following us?" she'd asked him about Burke earlier today, when she'd had the chance. Amber had made it clear in her tone… that she didn't care for Burke.

"He wants to come," Derrick had said with a shrug, seeming to indicate that somehow that made perfect sense.

"You do realize that immortals don't travel in packs… don't you?" she'd furthered, jabbing a finger into his back.

He'd said nothing and just kept driving.

They'd stopped at a roadside picnic area for a break… Derrick had sat behind her on the table top… she'd been on the attached wooden bench… his arms and legs surrounded her while Tyler Burke had paced up and down the grassy area… waving his arms and reciting the Gettysburg Address.

Derrick had leaned down to whisper in Amber's ear. "We need a motel room."

Amber had grinned and leaned back into him as thoughts of some privacy had thrilled her. "Yes we do!" she'd agreed eagerly.

He'd kissed the top of her head, his lips brushing her hair, his hands giving her shoulders a slight squeeze. "I'm so pleased you agree."

Yeah… she'd agreed… Then they'd found the old white plaster-walled motel with its long line of faded blue doors. There were two other old cars in the crumbling asphalt of the parking lot. One evidently belonged to the desk clerk… the other to another guest.

Derrick had parked the jet cycle and told her to wait. He'd gone into office and through the yellow tinted window she could see him talking to the desk clerk. She'd gazed up at the sun shining hotly in the clear sky… and noted a vulture gliding on thermals.

Burke had pulled in behind her. She'd sighed, hoping he'd stay in his car, along with all the stuff he had piled into it. She most definitely did not want to have to talk to him. He waited… she could hear him crooning, "… it was a very good year for small-town girls…" His radio didn't work… but evidently… Tyler Burke did not need a radio.

Derrick's step was light as he exited the office and waved a keycard in his hands with a grin. Amber had leaped off the bike and grabbed both of their bags… her thoughts on the shower… and on a soft bed… and on what might happen again in the privacy of a room.

Oh… she'd gotten the shower… first.

Now she combed her hair and wrapped the towel tightly around her slim, muscular frame… carefully tucking in the end. She sighed and opened the bathroom door… her skin prickling slightly in the AC revved up in the outer room. "Next!" she said far more brightly than she actually felt.

Derrick had thrown a towel around Burke's shoulders and was trimming the man's wild red mane and beard. Burke grinned at her and glanced up at Derrick. "Go… you'll enjoy it," he said with a smile.

Bowing at her as he passed… Burke entered the bathroom and shut the door. Derrick gathered up the cut hair and deposited it all in a trashcan while Amber… carefully slipped into clean clothes… making certain to keep an eye on the shut bathroom door.

"Is his presence necessary?" she asked, feeling her Irish temper rise.

Derrick brushed at his clothes. "He needs a shower."

"Can't he get his own room?"

"With what?"

Amber rounded on him. "Ya paid for his food. Why not rent him his own room?"

Derrick shrugged. "It seemed a waste of money to rent him a room just so he could shower. He can use this one."

Amber collapsed on the bed. "Please tell me he's not going to sleep in here, too!"

Derrick laughed. "No… I think he plans to sleep in the car. He said he needed to be certain it wasn't hauled off."

Amber leaned against the headboard, carefully folding her arms across her chest. Her long bare legs stretched out on top the cool silky feel of the tacky paisley quilt. She'd pulled on gray knit shorts and a gray tank top in the anticipation of relaxing for the rest of the day.

Derrick eyed the bathroom. "Strange… he hasn't started any water yet. Perhaps I should check on him." He knocked and opened the door. Amber heard him say something to Burke about assistance as he shut the door behind him. A few moments later she heard the water start.

She grabbed the remote and flicked it at the television. "Curiouser and curiouser," she quoted and ran through the five stations available… settling on some old black and white movie that she vaguely recalled seeing when it was new.

-----

An hour later, Tyler Burke paraded around the motel room… admiring his Hawaiian print shirt… reasonably clean and his khaki Bermuda shorts and leather sandals. He rubbed his hands idly up and down his arms and over his trimmed hair and beard. Then he grinned at Derrick sitting on the end of the bed… his hands clasped before him.

"Lookeeng good!" Burke said with a laugh.

Derrick nodded. "Yes… you look very nice Burke. Are you hungry?" When the mad immortal eagerly nodded, Derrick leaned back on the bed. "I'm going to get us all some burgers and fries." He slapped Amber's leg lightly and rose to leave. He turned back. "Unless there is something else you'd like?"

Amber glared at him. "A burger's fine." She inclined her head in Burke's direction. "Why not take him with ya?"

Derrick shrugged. "I don't think he'd do well riding on the back of the cycle. I can make it there and back faster on my own."

"And ya want me to… entertain him?" Amber's sarcasm was evident.

Derrick laughed. "Just talk to him. Get to know him."

"I don't want to get to know him. I don't even want him around!"

Derrick sobered. "He needs us."

"Aye… but do we need him?" Amber tossed one of the pillows at Derrick. He caught it thoughtfully and gazed at her and then at Burke.

"Maybe we do. Each one we befriend… is one less we might have to kill." He tossed the pillow back. "Besides… he's a lot better than he was when we found him." Waving at them both… he left.

Amber sighed when she heard the jet cycle power up and drive away. "He wants me to talk to ya… but how do we communicate?" she asked thoughtfully.

Burked pulled a chair up closely in front of the television. She hit the remote and found a cartoon. He grinned and nodded. "Roadrunner! Beep! Beep!"

Amber smirked wearily. "Yeah… beep… beep!"

-----

**Outskirts of Tucson, AZ:**

The dusty white **_Camry_** pulled into the shantytown… stirring up a cloud of dust. Simon Becker alighted into the sunshine with a glance at the shimmering mirage of heat rising around him. He wiped his already perspiring brow and leaned into the back seat for his medical bag.

Surprisingly… he was not met by the residents as he usually was on his weekly visit here. _Well_, he thought, _it _is _hot_. Maybe they had all holed up somewhere. He wasn't really here to see them anyway. He was here to check on Tyler Burke, immortal.

Despite being crazy as a loon… Tyler Burke had managed to survive in a kill or be killed game for nearly fifty years. Perhaps it was his madness that protected him. More likely it was that few immortals ever prowled the slagheaps of humanity for their prey. Surely if one ever came after him here… Burke would be dead.

When Simon had drawn the assignment… he'd groaned at the thought of spending time in this place.

"As a doctor… you'd have a reason to go down there and hang out. Those people don't take to outsiders too well… as we've learned over the years. Go slowly… just check them out… get to know them… gain their trust. That way… if anything happens to Burke… they'll tell you the next time you're there."

So Simon had done as he was told. One of the directives from the Watcher Council had been to watch… not interfere… and not get overly involved. As he approached Burke's usual haunts, Simon noted the absence of the usual residents. Fearfully he sped up… afraid that he'd find Burke beheaded… and the others dead or gone… having fled in fear from what they'd seen.

But he didn't find Burke. What he found was a mystery. Burke's old **_Taurus_**… a 1997 tan clunker had vanished… and with it… Burke's lean-to, his belongings… and Burke himself. Simon turned about, shading his eyes with his hand, while he searched for signs of life. Finally he heard singing in the distance. Rushing in that direction he found Old Sal… packing things into a shopping cart.

"Sal… how are you?" Simon gave it his best effort.

The woman grinned her gap-toothed smile. "Hey Doc!"

"Where is everyone?"

Sal shrugged. "Most bugged out yestiday. They's lookin' for jobs or better housin', I think."

Simon chuckled to himself. How many times in the last year had he attempted to tell these people they needed to get out of here and move on with their lives. That there was all sorts of help out there and government assistance if they just applied for it. He'd gotten nowhere. Then again… Simon glanced around… they _were_ gone.

"Everyone?"

"Yep… I'm the last. Jest wanted to find a few things I might need 'fore I left or I'd be gone, too."

"Even Crazy Burke?" Simon tried to sound less interested than he truly was.

"Oh… he left with them young folks."

"Young folks?"

"Yep… a man and a young woman. Nice couple… though she put on some airs at first." Sal shook out a coat, examined it for holes and dirt, and then stuffed it into her basket.

"And Burke went with them?"

"Yep… The man helped Burke fix his car… then Burke followed them down the road." She picked up a wooden stepstool and turned it over in her hands as she considered it. Then she tossed it over her shoulder.

Simon tried to order his thoughts. Burke had left? The man was terrified of being in the world. He was terrified of other immortals! Simon had talked with him several times trying to get some insight into what had happened to Tyler Burke that had left him the way he was. He never had. Simon thanked Sal and headed back to his car. Climbing in… he started the ignition and sat thinking while the AC blew cold air on his face.

Pulling his PDA from the glove compartment… he tapped in the date and time of day. "_Subject left with a couple_." He'd type it up formally later and then submit his report. They'd re-assign him… at least Simon hoped that his superiors would. Someplace nice… someplace where he needn't have to deal with the likes of Tyler Burke, Old Sal… or shantytowns.

-----


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four  
****Near the Colorado border:**

Night was falling by the time Derrick stopped the next day. They'd risen early… eaten a fast-food breakfast and then hit the road while it had still been early. The only time they'd stopped was to pull into a gas station so that Derrick could fuel Burke's old clunker. Amber had picked up some wrapped snacks and drinks while they'd refueled.

A night in a motel room… the AC clicking on and off… the feel of clean sheets… a shower… all these things had gone a long way toward relaxing Amber. She'd decided that Derrick was just a helpful and innocent soul who wanted to help people. She knew that once he came face to face with his first challenge… things would change.

In the meanwhile, Amber decided to keep an eye on him. She found it odd that he seemed older… maybe it was just his physical age as compared to hers… she'd died at age twenty-two… or maybe it was just his calmness in situations that made him seem older. At any rate… Amber had decided to pull rank and start really trying to train him.

She'd watched him again this morning… amazed at his fluidity of motion… and the intricacy of many of his moves. His sister's husband must have been a hell of a swordsman! Amber wasn't certain where to begin critiquing his style. So she hadn't tried… instead she'd sparred with him… reaching back into some of the tricks of swordplay she'd once learned from Connor MacLeod to push the young immortal hard… to help him understand… that immortals don't just fight and back away… they fight as if nothing else matters.

He'd still beaten her. She'd found herself… pulled into his embrace… her back to him… her cutlass flipped into the air and his broadsword across her neck. For a long moment they were frozen in the moment. Derrick had blinked and freed her, mumbling an apology.

Amber had swooped down to pick up her cutlass and attacked once more. He'd blocked… shifted and then pulled the cutlass from her hands and tossed both swords on the bed. This time… he didn't let her go until he'd kissed her… long and hard.

When she'd pulled back… she'd grinned and inclined her head toward the swords. "Guess we'll have to move those if we want to use the bed again?"

He'd slipped a foot around her leg and tripped her so that she'd landed on the floor. He'd thrown himself atop her. "Who said we needed a bed!" His eyebrows had arched up and he'd begun tickling her until she screamed.

It was at that point that Burke had knocked on the door and anything else they might have done was put on hold while they packed to leave.

So here it was dark again… but there was no motel in sight. There was… however… a roadhouse up on the left. Amber could hear the honky-tonk music from here and see the blinking neon lights, which adorned the place.

Derrick parked in the outer area of the lot and waited while Burke parked the _Taurus_ next to them. He stepped out of his car and rubbed his chest. "Ribs! Maybe they have ribs! And beer! I love beer!"

Derrick chuckled as he secured the jet cycle and waited while Amber climbed off… then he followed. "I'm certain they have the beer, Burke… but ribs? We shall have to find out." He swung one arm over Burke's shoulders and the other around Amber's waist… pulling her tightly to him… as the three of them threaded among the parked cars and entered the roadhouse.

"Maybe you two should let me do the talkin'," Amber yelled to Derrick as they entered. "I've worked in many a place like this over the years."

"You're the expert, then," Derrick laughed.

Shortly later they were seated and had ordered. Burke would get his ribs, along with a baked sweet potato and corn on the cob. Amber had settled for bar-b-cue chicken and coleslaw, while Derrick had ordered a steak and salad.

As they ate, Amber suddenly asked Derrick. "How much money do ya have?"

He looked at her with a shrug. "Enough. I'll find a job when we need more." He reached over to hand Burke his napkin. "You need to slow down a bit."

"Right!" Burke said wiping his face and beard. Then he stared at the ribs and his sauce-covered hands. He held them palm up as regarded them as if they were covered with blood… not sauce. "We kill." His terrified gaze met Derrick's.

"Only if we need to, Burke," the new immortal said. "Only if there is no other choice."

Burke nodded thoughtfully. Slowly he picked up a rib and began to gnaw.

"Can ya dance?" asked Amber. She'd finished her chicken and was tapping her toes to the beat of the live band.

Derrick pushed his plate away. He nodded. "Do you want to?"

"I thought ya'd never ask," she laughed grabbing his hand and leading him onto the dance floor. She loved dancing… maybe that was one of the reasons she kept going back to bars to work over the years. It was like attending a party that never ended. The small dance area was crowded. Amber didn't mind. It was also an excuse to be as close to Derrick as she could. Nor did he seem to mind. He smiled at her… ignoring the others about him. Amber was aware that several young ladies gave him appreciative looks.

Three dances later… the band took a break and the dance floor emptied. Upon their return to their table… they noted Burke looking around.

"What is it?" Amber asked as she re-took her seat.

"Thought I felt someone…" Burke mumbled. "Don't now." He grinned. "Other than you two."

Derrick stood with his hand on the back of Amber's chair and looked around. "Maybe we should finish up and leave." He waved at their waitress and motioned for the check. Of the three of them… he was the only one who'd not finished his meal.

-----

They'd returned to the outer reaches of the lot before all three felt the other immortal. Burke moaned and clapped his head with his hands. "They're here!" he shouted.

Amber slipped one hand inside her long coat… her hand already on the hilt of her cutlass, ready to pull it and make the challenge.

Derrick stood easily… making no movement. "Hello," he finally said as the dark haired, dark-eyed man with a goatee stepped into the light. It was easy to see his hand was also on the hilt of his sword… still hidden in his dark coat.

"Caspar Wingate," he said directly as his gaze traveled over all three of them. "How odd for there to be three of you in one place. We don't do well in groups… or hadn't you heard? Don't you know the rules?"

"We know the rules!" Amber snapped brushing past Derrick and pulling on her cutlass.

Wingate chuckled and moved forward. He turned away, and then turned back… lashing out with a fist that sent Amber reeling backwards. Derrick caught her and then handed her off to Burke.

"That was uncalled for," he said quietly.

"Yes it was. I think you," Wingate pointed as he moved out of the light of the floodlit parking lot, "… are the immortal I want to challenge."

"No!" yelled Amber struggling in Burke's arms. He continued to hold he tightly. "I challenge you! Mine takes precedence!"

Wingate laughed… drawing forth his broadsword. He held it up before him and regarded it as he turned it about slightly and then shrugged out of his coat as he prepared to battle.

Derrick glanced back at Burke and Amber and smiled thinly at Amber. "It'll be fine. You'll see." He shrugged out of his coat, drawing forth his own great broadsword. He tossed his coat towards Amber, who made a futile attempt to grab it as Burke pulled her further back… away from the combatants. Amber struggled again. Actual combat was different from knowing the moves and even sparring. One had to be able to kill and then face the onslaught of the quickening. Somehow… Amber feared that Derrick… even with his evident skill… was not quite ready for that.

-----

Wingate crouched and began to circle… making a few feints so that his blade struck Derrick's with a loud clang of steel. Derrick appeared to wait… offering little in terms of attack or his true skill. Wingate had picked him because the buzz about him was lighter in tone than that about the others. Although physically the most dangerous… he likely was the youngest in immortal years. His quickening would be light enough that Wingate could recover and then take out the woman. The other would be a basket case by that time. He was already mumbling and moaning as he held the woman back.

"I didn't catch your name," Wingate yelled as he lunged and pivoted in his feint attempting to get within the other's guard.

"Derrick!"

"No last name?" Wingate slashed left and right… again hitting only the sword. He pulled back and continued to circle.

"Derrick Foster was the name I used for most of my mortal life."

Wingate paused. Then he laughed. "Let me guess… You were adopted… No… you were a foster child… No… you were abandoned."

"Yes," replied Derrick. He pivoted the sword back and forth easily before him in an enticing pattern. Wingate was struck by his calmness.

"Yes? Which was it?"

Derrick shrugged. "All of the above."

Wingate laughed as he lunged forward suddenly and beat left and right against the young immortal's sword… feeling the quaver of the metal as it sparked with each clash. He'd had his blade reinforced recently… and knew it could break even the strongest of traditional blades… and this "boy's" blade looked old… and traditional. He continued his assault… nearly laughing as the young man backed up in the face of it.

With both hands on his hilt Wingate slammed his blade into the other's sword again and again. He could feel the sweat forming on his brow and beginning to drop from the end of his nose as he kept it up. Foster looked unemotional as he blocked one stroke after another. He was using the broadsword one-handed.

Finally Wingate paused and bent over slightly… gasping for breath. "Your turn." He readied for an assault. He'd been surprised that both the immortal and his sword had held up… and he knew that if he didn't get a second wind after that flurry of activity… he'd be sorry. He gulped in air while Derrick lay his blade on his shoulder and circled about him watching him intently.

"What are you lookin' at?" Wingate finally snapped as he recovered his breath and his strength… happy that his opponent was so new at this that he did not push his advantage.

"Nothing," Derrick answered as he held his broadsword before him with both hands. "If you're ready… we can go again." And Wingate was ready. He leaped forward and pounded his blade against the other's sword with a renewed effort. Again and again he slammed his blade in his assault. And still the other blocked every move with what appeared to be little effort.

Wingate pulled back and laughed as he breathed in and out… again watching as Derrick circled and waited. "You really are a fool… aren't you." He eyed the still struggling young woman. "Is she special to you? Should I enjoy her after you're dead… or just take her head?" His voice went from teasing to a dark threat. He laughed as he heard the woman's curses.

Derrick turned slightly to regard her, then turned back with a shrug. "Somehow I don't think she'd welcome your advances."

Wingate's eyes narrowed. He'd thought to anger the young immortal… cause him to lose his temper… lash out… make a mistake… attack and expend his energy… anything other than this calm demeanor he presented. He wiped the back of one hand across his eyes to wipe away the falling sweat. Perhaps he'd made an error… a fatal error. Perhaps this man was older and more experienced than his presence seemed to indicate.

With a roar Wingate attacked once more… turning and pivoting in an elaborate set of moves designed to confuse his opponent… at the end of which… he'd have the upper hand. He reached the end… but was still blocked.

Wingate backed up. "You've studied with him?"

"Who?"

Wingate held his broadsword before him thoughtfully. He focused on his opponent's blade… watching its movement… watching the flash of light from the nearby floodlights. He backed away another few steps. Then he smiled and dropped his sword… offering one hand. "Well met then."

Derrick shifted the great sword to his shoulder and shifted his weight thoughtfully. He smiled. And slowly reached one hand out.

"No!" screamed the woman.

Wingate grasped his opponent's hand and pulled… swinging his sword down sharply.

It should have worked. But it didn't.

Derrick lunged into Wingate… pivoted and slammed his blade against Wingate's… then pulled down and to the left so that it was ripped from Wingate's hands. The blade flew into the darkness. Then… remarkably… his opponent stepped back from him once more.

Wingate licked his lips and eyed the direction his sword had gone. He shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying." Again he held out a hand.

This time Derrick did not offer his… but merely waited.

Wingate laughed and stepped back… turning as he drew his small gun and fired… the bullet ricocheted off Derrick's sword and into the darkness. "Damn!" yelled Wingate and turned to flee… only to be pulled back by the neck and thrown to the ground. He rose to his knees and found the edge of his opponent's blade under his neck.

"Any more tricks up your sleeve?" asked Derrick.

"Nope!" Wingate nervously shook his head, feeling the blade slice lightly along his neck.

Derrick pulled back and regarded him. Slowly he circled around behind.

"Do it!" screamed the woman.

Wingate nodded and leaned forward on his hands. "Make it quick," he said.

Derrick raised the blade and then hesitated. "Are you certain this is what you want?" he asked thoughtfully.

Wingate looked up at him. "No… I want to live… but these are the rules. There can be only one… so get it over with." He straightened and closed his eyes… waiting. After a few moments he opened one eye and looked up.

Derrick squatted next to him. "Who says?"

"What?"

"Who says there can be only one?"

"Everyone!"

"Everyone?"

"It's tradition!"

Derrick grunted thoughtfully. "What if we agree not to kill one another? Can we not then end the fight to the death?"

"What?" Wingate sat back on his heels. "You mean you don't want my head?"

"Not if you are willing to end the fight."

"Derrick he's lying… don't trust him!" snarled the woman.

The young immortal lay the sword across his arm and raised one eyebrow. "Are you lying?"

Wingate considered his next words carefully. "Not at the moment."

"Are you willing to end the fight?"

"If it means I live to fight again."

"Agreed. But… I offer this only once… he whipped the sword around until once more it sliced lightly through the tender skin of Wingate's neck and his genial voice was tinged with a dark menace. "Come at me again… threaten me or those with me again… and you _will_ die. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Wingate wanted to nod… but feared the blade at his throat. "Ye… yes," he finally managed to get out.

Derrick removed his sword from Wingate's throat and stood up… backing slowly away while Wingate rubbed his neck… noting it had not yet healed.

The woman broke free of the red-haired immortal and rushed… past Derrick and raised a cutlass with a yell. Derrick grabbed her back and held her. "Let me go!" she screamed. "Ya're a fool Derrick. Ya canna just let him walk away."

"Agreed," Derrick said. "Burke… collect his sword."

The other man nodded and rushed into the darkness… bent down to pick up the sword and raced back to Derrick's side. "I like this one. Much better than mine."

"Yes, Burke. It is a very nice sword. Go put it in the trunk of your car. And take that gun of his as well."

Burke picked up the gun, nodded and backed away. He laughed as he headed for his car to do as he was told.

"You can't leave me without my sword."

"I don't intend to. You are welcome to join us if you wish."

"Join… you?" Wingate chuckled and shook his head. "Why would I want to do that?"

"To recover your sword, of course. You can ride with Burke unless you have your own means of transportation." Derrick turned, the still-struggling woman snarling under her breath. He maneuvered her toward the jet cycle. Once there he lifted her onto the bike, then climbed on himself. He pulled on his helmet and swiftly drove off.

Burke's car started and pulled out after Derrick.

Wingate stared after them. Then laughing… he raced for his own car and followed them into the desert night. It was new game… and Caspar Wingate was fond of games.

-----

**Niebos, Greece:**

Grace Chandel slowly walked onto the terrace, smiling to see John playing **_Scrabble_** with Carl Robinson. Carl was John's special project. The former immortal baseball player slowly shifted some letter tiles around and formed a word. John laughed and clapped him on the back. Grace could hear the encouragement he offered the other.

She knew that John still felt guilty that Carl had been damaged mentally. At least the immortal was on his way back. Most of those they'd rescued had made no progress at all. They lay in their beds… eyes open and blank… alive… but with no thought… no cognizance of those around them.

They were likely the ones whose knowledge and memories had been drained into the mortals they'd had to kill so many years ago. Grace shivered still in the memory of that long ago day. She could still feel her sword in her hands as she'd been forced not just to kill to survive… but to behead the strange mortals who'd attacked them.

In the days and weeks following… she'd interviewed the surviving scientists and poured over the records that remained. Much of what had been on the computers was lost. Wilderman… the head of the project… had ended up taking his own life while in captivity. He'd hanged himself in his cell, using a sheet. The only other scientist who might have helped them… Claire Romney… had died of injuries evidently sustained in a severe beating at the hands of Watcher Henry Rawlins… the man who had wanted to become immortal.

Carl's partial return to cognizance might have been because his knowledge and power had been transferred into John… who yet lived… The reformed mercenary was determined to help Carl return to an independent life. His immortality meant that time was on their side.

Grace turned back to the ward and stared at the vacant eyes of the twenty immortals under her care. She feared that not all the time in the world… would ever help these immortals regain their lives… that all they had been had been lost in the deaths of the mortals who had stolen their quickening… or at least some of it. They were still immortal… they still did not age. But they might as well have been dead.

The new Watchers had offered to look after them… but those in the rescue party had declined. They could look after their own. Phillip… the Swordmaster of Alexander the Great… had humbly offered his island home and the hospital he'd built here as shelter. Grace and John had offered their time… and Grace her medical and scientific knowledge to find a cure. Duncan MacLeod had offered funds to help with whatever they needed. Most of the others had simply promised to keep the secrets of this place and had vanished, although Methos and Eleanor came occasionally to stay and help.

Grace still found the truth of Methos far more astounding than the myth she had always heard and laughed at. That her old friend Eleanor not only knew him… but was bonded to him on some very basic level still intrigued her. Grace often wondered if that sort of bonding might one day be in her future… with John.

The one Watcher allowed on the island… an attempt at communication between immortals and Watchers… was restricted from the hospital. Phillip met with him daily at his villa… and was quietly present at all interviews between the Watcher and the immortal residents of and visitors to Niebos. Grace, herself, had spoken with the Watcher on a weekly basis in the past few years. Mainly she'd answered questions about holes in her chronicle that the historians wished to fill… although occasionally… Douglas Monaghan had asked about Grace's work at the hospital… and the state of the patients.

"They sit if we place them in chairs… they lie flat if we put them in a bed. They chew food if we put it in their mouths… and swallow fluid if we offer it. But they do not think. They do not react to us. Their minds are a blank," she'd finally snapped at Monaghan. "I'm sorry. I realize this was all before your time in the organization… but please… you must understand how abhorrent I still feel about what was done to them."

Douglas, a small thin man who wore glasses in an age when surgery fixed most eye problems… had nodded meekly. "I wish there were something I could do. I wish I could make it right."

"As do I Mr. Monaghan. As do I."

Of some of the others, who had been there that day, Grace knew little. The immortals both in Switzerland… and in other parts of the world… who'd been released and freed from the drugs with their minds intact… had, for the most part, moved swiftly on, ill-at-ease to remain too long in the company of others… or the watching eyes of the mortals.

A few had become connected somehow in some dream… and they'd tended to leave in pairs or small groups. Perhaps they were still seeking to understand the events of the dream-state they'd been forced to endure… but which had finally allowed them to find a commonality of existence that most did not yet wish to speak of.

Kyra the Spartan had spoken briefly to Grace about her dreams a few years ago. "It was as if I found refuge in a world torn by storms and upheaval. Yet in that world… was a calm understanding that immortals are not just a part of the mortal world… part of their history… but that we are also part of one another. Until we understand and accept that… we will forever be apart… and hungry for that union… that bliss we feel only in the aftermath of the quickening."

Her words had not made sense at the time to Grace… but in the intervening years… she'd come to hear similar thoughts from others who'd been in the dream-state at the facility and lived to tell of it.

"Are all of you together in some blissful garden?" Grace asked the nearest one quietly. His glazed eyes gave no sense of her question. Sighing, she turned away.

Behind her… Kenny blinked. But before a thought or even a question could completely form in his blank mind… his eyes returned to their glazed state… and he was lost once more… somewhere in the mists of time.

-----


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five  
****The Grand Canyon, two nights later:**

Across the campfire… Amber kept a careful eye on Wingate… watching him as he joked with Burke. The two of them were delivering the lines of the old Abbot and Costello "Who's on First" routine. Evidently Wingate was an old fan of the comedy duo… while Burke had simply heard it so much… he had it memorized.

As they finished… they pointed at one another with the line "Third Base!" Then both men collapsed laughing. Amber just shook her head.

She'd honestly feared for Derrick as she'd watched the fight. She'd wanted to protect him… he wasn't ready for a challenge… no matter how good he seemed to be. Even after nearly two and a half centuries, Amber could still recall the trepidation she'd felt at her first challenge… and then the thrill and momentary loss of self that followed afterwards. She'd still been little Kathleen Conroy… but she'd also been Hiram Bigelow… aged one hundred and seven. In the wake of that first quickening she'd taken her first mortal lover… reveling in the rush that followed the challenge and the confidence that she could compete in this game… that Connor MacLeod had taught her well. Still… Amber recalled that actually facing that first challenge… with the knowledge that to survive she'd have to behead another immortal… had been terrifying.

"Let's take a walk."

She glanced up at Derrick who had the sleeping bag cradled under one arm. He held out his other hand in invitation. Casting one more glance at the two laughing immortals… Amber stood and grasped his hand. "Fine by me." She was not in a good mood.

For an immortal who'd spent most of her life avoiding other immortals… having suddenly discovered that she was one of a group… and not exactly by her choice… thoroughly unnerved her.

They'd managed to find an unguarded area of the national park and had settled down for the night… even daring a campfire. But away from the light of the fire… Amber became aware of the panorama of stars, like sparkling jewels on the black velvet of the night. She gasped as one and then another streaked across the sky.

"Meteor shower," said Derrick coming to a stop near the canyon's edge. He stood beside her, holding her hand and like her… gazed at the heavens. After some moments… he chuckled and dropped her hand to spread the sleeping bag on the ground. He dropped onto it and sat cross-legged… still staring out at the night.

"Aye," Amber finally said. "In this modern world with so much false light and fast pace… I sometimes forget about the stars."

"What was it like when you were younger?"

She turned and stared at him. "How do ya mean?"

"I mean… what was it like to live in days when things were not so complicated. When life was slower… and you could step outside your door and see the stars."

Amber laughed companionably and settled on the sleeping bag next to him. "I sometimes forget ya know only this world. That ya're only thirty, that this life is all ya've ever known. Ya sometimes seem to be so much older and wiser than the rest of us."

"Me?" Derrick shook his head. "I don't know anything. I just see people and want to help give them what they need… what will help ease their pain."

"Oh, ya do, do ya? What did ya see in me?"

He stared at her thoughtfully. "You needed someone to love. You needed to let yourself love."

"How did ya know that?"

He shrugged. "I just listened to you."

"And are you that someone?"

Derrick was silent. He gazed out at the open expanse of the canyon and seemed to think about it. "I don't know. I know I care about you and what happens to you. I don't want _you_ ever to feel like I'm asking more of you than you feel you can handle. But I _do_ need you. Without you… I'd never have managed with Burke… and without Burke… Wingate would now be dead."

"What are ya hopin' to accomplish with all this?" She laid one hand on his shoulder.

But Derrick said nothing.

Finally he lay back on the sleeping bag, his hands behind his head and just stared soberly at the stars. "I don't know. Truly I don't."

Amber sat staring down at him. "Ya know what ya need?" she finally said with a wicked grin.

He looked at her thoughtfully.

"Ya need…" she said suddenly sitting atop him and folding her knees down. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "… to keep yar hands behind yar head… no matter what." Then she unbuckled his belt. She nearly laughed when he gasped at what she did next. There was something to be said for over two hundred years of experience.

-----

The morning sun rose in the east and the canyon was still deep in shadow. On the cliff above… Derrick went through the motions of the _kata_ with the great sword. He cleared his mind so effectively that the he could hear the whistling sound it made as it moved through the air… faster… ever faster. He turned and shifted… reacting to the moves he saw in his mind… as if they played out in fast forward. Finally he reached the end and slashed down with power and conviction. He froze and slowly opened his eyes to stare out across the canyon.

The deep red and sandstone colors shimmered in the light of the rising sun. The world looked for a moment as if drenched in blood. Derrick shuddered. Glancing behind him at the still sleeping Amber… he wondered what it was he was doing. As he'd told her last night… he truly didn't know… and there were no voices or flashes of memory to help him. There was only the sense that something had to be done… and that he needed to do it.

He had no plan. He'd seen that Amber needed him… that she needed to be needed by someone. Then he'd seen that Burke needed to learn who and what he was and how to respond to the world and to other immortals. And Wingate? He needed something. It wasn't clear yet… and there was still an element of danger in the aura about him… yet he was not an inherently evil person… corrupted by the darkness of the quickenings he'd taken. He was simply so focused on the game… that he'd never considered there could be anything else. Perhaps by traveling with them… he'd find what he needed.

"I cannot do it alone," Derrick said to the dawn. "I cannot do it alone."

Behind him, Amber stretched within the sleeping bag. She'd be awake soon. It was time to move on. Derrick rose and pulled on his coat… sliding the sword inside it. There were so many things to do here, and all he knew for certain was that he was the product of all he'd seen and learned as a boy and young man. Somehow, all of that was helping to guide the steps he now took.

Amber sat up with a smile… her eyes gazing at him. She drew her knees up in the bag and leaned against them… hugging them to her chest as she regarded him… her face relaxed in a contented smile.

He returned her smile. "It's time to go."

She sighed and looked back towards their campsite as she reached for clothes to don. "I suppose. Still… it's nice when we get to be alone."

Derrick nodded gently. "Yes." But he was already eager to get back… and even more eager to move on. The world was waiting, and time was passing.

-----

**Paris:**

Joe Dawson wheeled into the house from the garden… just missing the first of the falling raindrops. He stared at the rain splattering the leaves of the Amy's plants and chuckled. He liked seeing just how fast he could make this thing go sometimes.

He'd turned seventy-five his last birthday, and in this day and age… what with medical advancements… he could still look forward to a few more decades. But… the trade-off after the damage to his body from the caustic agent Avril Mishkov had introduced into his system a dozen years ago… was that he had to rest his heart.

"_Monsieur_ Dawson," the doctor had said. "Your heart is damaged. You've been shot there on two occasions. Now… with this poison introduced into your system… it has weakened. It takes a great deal of effort to use and walk with your prostheses. I honestly think you'd be better off… giving them up."

Joe had wanted to argue. He loved to argue, and he treasured his independence. But he'd agreed. The convincing argument had been that of his grandchildren. He wanted to see them grow up. He wanted to sit in the audience when they graduated from first public school, and then from college. He wanted to see them marry and have children of their own. Having lived so long without a family of his own… having been over fifty before Amy had ever learned of his tie to her… that he'd acknowledged that tie… he was suddenly eager for Amy and her children to be a major part of his life. Thus… he'd agreed to the motorized contraption. But it didn't mean he didn't like to race it a bit… or still be a part of life. If anything… he was even more lively and joking than he'd been. And that was saying something.

"_Monsieur_ Dawson! What are you doing? The rain is getting in!" Estelle, Amy's housekeeper was indignant at the rain pounding onto the slate tile floor of the conservatory.

Joe smirked. _As if it could do any damage_, he thought. "It's only water!" he snapped teasingly.

Estelle glared at him as she shut the double doors and began to mop up the water on her hands and knees.

For a moment, Joe grinned at Estelle's ample rear shifting back and forth on the floor in front of him. He sighed and chuckled as he hit the pad on the right arm of his chair so that he turned and drove off into the other room. He could still hear her grumbling behind him.

Joe had reached the main hall when his phonecard buzzed in his shirt pocket. He stopped, pulled it out… still amazed at the size and sleekness of the new phones. They were about the size of an old credit card… and about an eighth of an inch thick. On one side was a smooth touch pad… on the other… a plasma screen. He tapped the answer area and grinned as Amy's picture appeared.

"Dad… Hi!" she smiled warmly.

"Hi yourself! What's up?"

Amy shook her head, her brown hair swayed gently about her. "Oh… I was in such a rush this morning that I left my _attaché_ case in my office."

"You want I should bring it over?"

Amy laughed. "No… It's just… I think I left a data disk in it that I needed for a meeting this afternoon. Could you check? I marked it de Valicourt. Their new Watcher is coming in for a briefing today and while I thought I'd left it here… perhaps I didn't. I can't seem to lay my hands on it at the moment. Can you check for me?"

"Already rolling in there. I'll call you back if I find it."

"Thanks… If you do… then you can load it onto the fax and send it. Meanwhile… I'll keep looking for it here."

"Will do! Love you sweetie!"

"Ditto you old rascal." Amy rang off and the screen went blank.

By this time Joe had entered Amy's home office. As he entered… lights automatically came on. One of his old blues recordings began playing softly on Amy's sound system. He chuckled as he drove about looking for her _attaché_ case, finally finding it in the well of the desk. He pulled her chair out and reached in to lay the case on her desk.

He thought for a moment… attempting to recall her case code… then tapped in the twins' birthday with a laugh. The locks opened. "You gotta be more creative than that," he chuckled as he sorted through the contents. Finding an entire stack of disks… Joe lifted them out and began to sort through them. The small two-inch circles in their plastic sleeves all bore the Watcher logo and in Amy's bold stroke… names of immortals or time frames. He did not see de Valicourt on one of them.

Dropping them to one side he pulled out paper files and thin fax films in search of the disk she wanted. A few of the papers slid to the floor. He snorted… and continued to search. He found nothing. Joe shrugged as he began returning everything to the case. Glancing at the floor… he wondered if he should make the effort to get everything returned himself… or call Estelle to assist him.

Grinning he whipped out the long handled tongs Dawson had given him for his last birthday.

"So you can reach things," the boy had grinned.

Joe kept the tongs in his chair. He'd learned they came in handy occasionally… and that they made him feel not quite so dependent on others. He reached down with them and grasped the papers… carefully lifting them and replacing them in the case. Then he leaned down with them to gather the last ones… the ones that had fluttered further away. His eyes fell on one sheet… on the small photo.

Joe froze for a moment. Then he reached over to grasp that sheet and pull it into his lap. He picked it up in his hand and held it before his eyes. His eye surgery two years ago had restored his vision to that of his youth. Thoughtfully he read the information and stared at the photo of the young man. "Damn!" he said.

-----

Amy entered her home with a cheery, "Yoo hoo!" She could hear Abigail playing _Fűr Elise_ on the piano. Her daughter had evidently inherited her grandfather's musical abilities… if not his taste in music. Dawson passed through the hall; his hands wrapped around a massive sandwich… his expression reflecting guilt.

"Oh… Hi Mom!" he sputtered around the food in his mouth, making the effort to chew and swallow before continuing his snack.

"Hi yourself," Amy smirked. He was going through a growth spurt evidently and seemed to always be eating. "Where's your grandfather?"

The boy swallowed the last of what was in his mouth. "He's in your office. He was there when we got home. I went in to say hello… but he seemed awful quiet."

"Is he all right?" Concern filled Amy's voice and being, as she laid her coat on the hall table.

"He said he was. But he didn't seem to want to talk or anything."

"I better check on him. He seemed fine earlier today when I spoke with on the phone." Amy crossed to her closed office door, and then turned back with an encouraging smile. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Dawson took another bite of his sandwich and headed up the stairs chewing thoughtfully.

Inside her office, Amy found Joe staring out the window at the rain.

"Dad?"

He looked up at her soberly. "Hi… I didn't find your disk."

Amy nodded. "I figured as much. As it turned out… I did leave it at the office. So what's the matter?"

Joe held out a piece of faxfilm. "I didn't mean to snoop… but I saw this."

"You know you can look at anything I bring home," Amy started as she gathered it from his outstretched hand and glanced at it. "How did that get here?" She noted that it was the story of the man who'd died saving car crash victims in California a few weeks ago. She laughed with a shrug. "I must have shoved it into my case a few days ago when I was in a hurry. I'd forgotten all about this one." She gestured to Joe. "What about it?"

"Don't you recognize him?"

Amy glanced again at the photo of the bearded man. She shook her head with a shrug. "No… should I?"

"Do you recall Derrick… the young man you met when Ellie first came to see me in the Paris hospital?"

Amy stared again at the photo trying to recall that day over twelve years ago. She hadn't really been at her best. She'd been worried sick about Joe, Burt, and the children. She'd awakened to see a dark-haired woman offering Joe some water. In the shadows behind the door had been a tall young man. Amy stared again at the face in the photo. This man was at least thirty… which meant he'd likely have been… what… about the same age in 2011. That couldn't be right. The young man had been in his teens… only slightly older than the twins were now… perhaps seventeen… or eighteen. She'd noted his eyes… such old eyes. Amy stared harder… at the eyes staring out at her from the photo… eyes that spoke of serenity… and peace. "What? It can't be the same boy. He was a young man. This is of an older man. If he were immortal… he'd have been closer to this age in 2011."

"Not if he was born in 1993," Joe said quietly.

Amy gazed quizzically at the photo and then at Joe. "Is there something I should know?"

Joe nodded. "You remember when I was shot by Daniel M'Benga?"

"How could I forget!"

"The real reason I was shot was because I was protecting a ten year old boy from being shot. He was pre-immortal."

"In 2003 he was ten?" Amy was aghast. "Then there are new immortals being born!"

Joe shrugged. "That I don't know. I just know about Derrick. Mac and Methos and Ellie thought he was special. When I met him that day… I knew he was."

"How so?" Amy settled on the arm of the sofa.

"Do you remember off-hand what happened in May of 1993?" Joe looked up at her.

Amy's brow knotted in thought. "Let's see… you mean among immortals?" Suddenly she had it and stared at Joe. "Darius was murdered."

Joe nodded. "I think you and I have some calls to make."

-----


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six  
****Florence, Italy, early the next day:**

Duncan MacLeod sat back in his chair as he tapped off the connection for the phone and the screen on the wall went blank.

Soon he heard the beep of his fax machine as the page from Joe and Amy came through. He waited for it… and then pulled it from the tray… staring at the photo… recognizing the face and seeing in that face… the boy he'd known too briefly… wearing the expression of an old friend. Derrick had evidently peered quietly at the camera when he'd sat for that license photo. His sandy hair was long about his head… his beard full and long… and his blue eyes met Duncan's as if seeing him there. The man in the photo seemed slightly amused… as if in on some secret only he knew.

Last Christmas, Duncan had found a postcard from Derrick amongst the mail he'd collected from his post office box. Over the years, he knew that Derrick had moved from job to job… as if attempting to experience the entire world in a single lifetime. He heard from him occasionally… more slight nods to the fact that he was still out there and alive… than any real attempt to stay in touch. He never included a return address. Although Duncan had several email accounts… to his knowledge… Derrick had never emailed him.

He'd set up a bank account for Derrick twelve years ago… pouring money into it periodically in case the young man ever needed funds. He'd felt that if he did die his first death… he might need cash to get on his feet again… create a new identity… fly to wherever he needed to be. Duncan had made Derrick promise to find one of them for proper training the last time he'd actually seen the young man.

"If it happens… don't just go off on your own or try to continue in a mortal life. Immortal challengers are stronger and more devious than you can imagine. You call me… or contact me. I'll come… No matter what… I'll come."

Derrick had shrugged with a chuckle. "But knowing what I know… it may never happen."

Part of Duncan had hoped that it wouldn't happen. Like Ellie, he'd wanted Derrick to truly have a life… one that would not force him to become other than what he was. He tended to wish that for all of them over the years… all the pre-immortals he'd ever met. Some of them had grown old and died… their immortal potential never realized. They'd been happy and secure in their ignorance. At least, Duncan hoped they'd been happy.

Evidently Derrick was one of them now… and Duncan wondered what that might mean… and why he'd heard nothing before now. Surely the young man knew how important it was for him to get in contact. He thoughtfully laid the faxfilm on his desk.

Hearing Amanda in the garden, Duncan rose and stood in the open doorway watching her. They'd been playing at this for several years… this domestic arrangement they'd crafted. Nothing permanent… nothing with strings. Ellie and Methos had warned both of them that they both needed to be absolutely certain of what they wanted and that it might take years… even centuries before they were certain. So for now… they were playing at this… trying to see how it went.

Amanda leaned back on her knees in the dirt and wiped one gloved hand across her brow… leaving a dirt smear. Glancing up at him she smiled teasingly and winked. To Duncan, she'd never looked lovelier. She wore a thin white blouse and red shorts… the blouse… buttoned up the front and slightly sheer… at least enough so that he could see her red bra through it… was entirely inappropriate for gardening. Leave it to Amanda to be more concerned with making a fashion statement than appropriate attire for the occasion.

Crossing his well-muscled arms before his chest, he leaned on the doorjamb and just watched her as she planted the summer annuals. As always… Amanda loved having her little projects. Right now it was this garden.

"What's up?" she said looking over at him.

Duncan shrugged. "What makes you ask that?"

"Oooooooh! Playing twenty questions are we?"

"If you say so," he grinned and straightened, walking out into the sunshine to crouch at her side.

"That's not a question," Amanda said leaning forward to pack moist earth around another small plant.

In the far reaches of the garden, Duncan could hear the dogs barking. He glanced at them, then assured they were merely tussling over a scrap of blanket… he returned his attention to Amanda and the way her dark hair fell free of her scarf and hung over her face.

As if trying to fathom his thoughts she looked at him with a smile… "What?"

For once… Duncan was glad the garden was walled, the servants had the day off… and that they had no children. He leaned forward and kissed her… pulling her upper lip slightly with his teeth as he pulled back.

"Mmmmmm! That was nice," Amanda cooed.

Duncan winked and pulled her scarf free of her head as he nuzzled her neck.

"Ooooh! Even better," she laughed.

Raising his hands to her blouse… he pulled her shirttail free and slipped his hands up under it… to squeeze one breast.

"Stop!" she said. "I'll never get this done if you keep this up."

"The garden can wait," he said insistently, and pushed her onto her back, lowering himself onto her and pulling at the waistband of her cotton shorts."

"Well… if you insist," Amanda whispered, urgently tearing off her garden gloves and tossing them away as she slid her fingers under his linen shirt and then began to fumble with his pants.

-----

Sometime later, he lay next to her and watched the clouds gather in the late afternoon sky. "It's going to rain tonight," Duncan finally said.

"I know," Amanda replied as she shifted her body next to his. "Why do you think I was working so hard out here?"

Duncan lifted one hand and trailed fingers along her bare back… pausing to trace softly the pattern for water.

She flinched slightly and then made a small contented grunt in her throat. "I love it when you do that."

He leaned forward to kiss the spot.

She turned over and trailed one finger over the dark hair on his bare chest until she traced earth. He felt the slight flicker of quickening and quickly kissed her again. When they'd talked with Ellie and Methos about the patterns… and had learned them… the others had made both of them promise to take it slowly.

"Trace them only when you make love… nothing permanent," Methos had warned.

"Permanent?" Duncan had asked.

"Let's just say… you don't want to attempt anything else for some time." The ancient immortal had lolled back on the sofa, one arm about Ellie's shoulders and a beer in his other hand. He'd raised the beer and taken a long gulp, then had met the Highlander's gaze. "Consider Alisaunne and Nestor… and the connection between them. Trust me… you don't want each other in your minds especially if you move on to other partners." The fingers of his hand about Ellie's shoulders absently traced something on her neck.

She'd grinned and arched her eyebrows. "Especially if you want to move on." She'd giggled as one of her small hands had inched under Methos' shirt.

A moment later, Methos had suddenly looked at her and said. "We're done here, right MacLeod?" He'd risen, pulling Ellie with him as they'd vanished into their room.

"Now what was that all about?" Amanda had asked.

"I think they were communicating," Duncan had chuckled.

"What are you thinking about?" Amanda asked as she stared deeply into his brown eyes.

"Joe called earlier."

"I heard the phone. So what's put you in this strange mood?"

"Evidently Derrick's become immortal."

"Oh," said Amanda sitting up suddenly and gazing over at him. "That could prove interesting." She arched her eyebrows, and then looked at him curiously. "Does Methos know yet?"

Duncan stretched on the earth and gazed at her somberly, as he let one hand trail up and down her spine. "Joe and Amy were going to contact him next."

-----

**_Chateau _de Valicourt, the same day:**

Gina de Valicourt brushed her dark hair, and then leaned forward to dab a bit of color onto her lips. She wanted to look perfect… absolutely perfect. She noted the gleam in her dark eyes and closed them as she mentally attempted to find Robert.

He was downstairs in his office speaking with their new Watcher. She sent a small vision of their recent activities to him and was rewarded with a return flash of another one. Then he refocused on Madeline LeSeur. The young woman was blonde… her hair that perfect color of sun-kissed yellow that men always found enticing. Gina saw her through Robert's eyes and smirked at his evident appreciation of the young mortal's trim form, and lovely face. He was especially admiring the almost view of her breasts at the V-neckline of her suit jacket. Gina had the distinct impression that the young woman wore nothing under that jacket… nothing at all.

"Honestly!" she hmmphed and withdrew, slamming her brush down. Rising, she swept elegantly from her dressing table, letting the long train of her gown flutter in the breeze as she descended the wide marble stairs to join him. He opened the door of the office even before she'd arrived.

"Darling… you really don't need to be here," he'd said quietly as he kissed her offered cheek.

"Oh… darling… but I do." Gina settled on the divan and crossed her legs as she watched the young Watcher coyly tuck a lock of hair behind one ear and blush slightly.

"I'm sorry if I'm creating a problem."

"No… no Madeline… no problem," Robert rolled his eyes at Gina and sent a "_Please… behave!_" toward her.

"I always behave," Gina said aloud.

LeSeur glanced at her curiously and shifted uncomfortably.

"Gina… please… it was just an innocent flirtation… I had no plans to act on it," Robert whispered to his wife as he leaned over her and kissed her cheek again.

"Then you won't mind my being here as we get to know _Mademoiselle_ LeSeur… will you?" Gina directed her words directly at Robert quietly.

Robert smiled and shook his head… but she could see the little vein in his temple pounding furiously. This unity they were experiencing was still far too new to both of them… and they evidently still had a lot to get used to. Among the little problems were the random thoughts of one another about each other… and about others.

"Madeline… Please call me Madeline," the young woman said nervously and smiled at Robert with a little shake to her shoulders. "I'm so pleased to have you two as my assignment. This is my first field assignment… and I really hope to perform my duties well."

Gina's crossed leg began to pump up and down as she crossed her arms before her. Either this girl had no idea of what Robert had been thinking about her… or she did… and was playing coy. Gina wondered if it was too late to call and request a woman of suitable age… say seventy or eighty to be their new Watcher.

-----


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven  
****Denver, CO:**

The sky over the mile-high city was heavily clouded, and the threat of rain was imminent. Derrick pulled out of traffic and glanced upward. Already Amber could see lightning in the dark and ominous clouds. Parking the jet cycle in a parking space Derrick jumped off and handed his helmet to Amber. "Wait here… I shouldn't be long." With that he raced across the street… dodging the cars… and into a bank.

Burke pulled into another parking space. Wingate leaned out of the passenger window and motioned to Amber with his arm. She climbed off and walked toward the car.

"What's up with the General?" For no reason she could fathom… Wingate had taken to calling Derrick that… as if they were a military operation of some sort. His own car had quit on them yesterday… major problems in the transmission… so they'd sold it for parts and gas. Wingate had grumbled about losing his newer vehicle… but had piled his few belongings into Burke's car and had sat back… riding along. He wasn't about to leave his sword… and so far… no one had offered to return it.

Amber shook her head. "I don't know… money maybe?"

"What's he gonna do… rob the bank? Or take out a loan?"

Shaking her head and shrugging, Amber replied, "I really have no idea." She paced nervously back and forth between the car and the jet cycle. She was uneasy about Derrick being out of her sight. There were times he seemed so innocent and naive that she wondered how he'd ever survive in their world… or how he'd managed to survive as long as he had. True… he seemed to have an ability to defuse situations… and make friends. She laughed at how quickly she'd picked up and followed him… as had Burke. And Wingate? She shook her head. She still didn't quite trust the man… and he made her uneasy when he'd sit and just stare at her. Only when he was joking around with Burke… did he seem… well not harmless… but at least not a threat.

Lightning flashed nearby suddenly, and thunder cracked and rolled loudly almost immediately. Amber gazed upwards, knowing that they needed to get out of the weather. A cold wind was picking up. Pieces of trash blew toward her carried by the rising wind. She shivered… rubbing her arms as she watched the passing pedestrians hurry to get under cover. One woman's umbrella turned inside out in the face of the wind. Amber could hear her cursing as the woman tossed it into a trash receptacle and hurried off. A few massive raindrops splattered heavily about Amber as she paced.

Finally… after what seemed far too long a time… she sighted Derrick exiting the bank and returning.

Grabbing his helmet he shouted, "Get on… Let's get under cover!" As soon as she was aboard… he pulled once more into traffic. Amber held on tightly… curious as to what he'd done… and why they had finally entered a downtown area of a major city. Until this… Derrick had mainly seemed interested in the rural and lightly populated areas of the country. They'd traveled secondary roads… and stayed out of major areas of habitation.

He pulled into the overhanging awning of a hotel and turned off the bike. "I'll get us a room. Have Burke park in the lot," he shouted over the thunder and the roar of the wind and rain. The storm's intensity was increasing. The rain became a solid sheet that pounded the surrounding asphalt.

Amber did as he asked and climbed off the bike… grabbing their bags. She stood waiting… uncertain whether he wanted her to follow him in. After all… he couldn't leave the bike here. Moments later a thoroughly drenched Burke and Wingate joined her.

"We stayin' here?" Wingate shouted to her.

Amber nodded.

Lightning flashed! The streetlights flared out, then slowly flickered back on in the aftermath of the flash and the returning darkness of the afternoon.

Derrick returned and handed Amber two keycards with a wink. "They're adjoining rooms. Go on up. I'll park the bike."

Ten minutes later… Burke and Wingate were in 1017 and Amber was tossing the bags on one of the beds of 1019. Through the window… she could still see the storm gaining in intensity. The lights flickered in the hotel… and she could hear a security alarm _thrumming_ in the distance in reaction to the interruption of power. Alarms sounded in the elevators. Evidently they were stopped… and people were nervous… Then the power went out completely.

Amber pulled back the draperies in the darkened hotel room and stared out the window. Shortly later, she heard the keycard in the door and a soaked Derrick came in. He tossed his helmet on the bed and began to peel off his wet clothes.

Amber grinned. "Bet that was fun," she teased.

Derrick chuckled. "I've had better days."

"Did you come up the stairs?"

Derrick nodded, "Think I'll take a shower. Are Burke and Wingate all right?"

"Next door. I heard the TV before the power went out and now the shower's running… so I guess. Nice that I'm the only one that managed to remain dry in the face of this."

"I endeavor to please," Derrick quipped as he leaned over for a brief kiss before entering the small bathroom for a shower.

Amber smiled as she watched him go and then returned to peering out the window. Unable to see much of the view for the rain pounding on the window so heavily that everything was a blur, she shook her head. She could hear what sounded like car alarms in the street as parked cars were hit by blowing trash or by the force of the rain itself. At least they were safe and… she turned to glance at the open door of the dark bathroom… reasonably dry. Idly she considered a shower anyway. After all… with no power… they had to find some way to fill the rest of the day.

-----

**Fairfax County, VA:**

A somber Methos gazed through the French doors. Already Eleanor tickled at the edge of his mind a slight… "_… ? …_"

He smiled… feeling her next to him as he watched her on the grounds. Even from here he could tell she knew where he was and that she was gazing in his direction thoughtfully.

_Soon_, he thought and felt her withdraw with a tinkling laugh. She knew he was concerned about something… and was curious… but he had no intention of hiding this… he just wanted to be with her when he told her.

Behind him he heard the fax _beep _and _whir_ as the hard copy was received. His secretary Jayne Wyndham-Wyatt pulled it from the tray and handed it to him. He noted the quizzical expression across her face.

"Nothing that concerns you," he said as he turned again to the scene outside… his hands held behind him… and in them was the film. He didn't have to look at it. He trusted Dawson and his daughter to be correct in what they assumed. He feared that if he looked at it… really looked at it… not all the mental blocks in the universe would prevent Eleanor from seeing it as well. And he wanted to see her face when she read it.

"I'll be outside," he murmured to Jayne as he opened one of the French doors and wandered slowly out onto the spacious grounds. In the distance he could see the horses prancing on the rolling fields and hear their _whinnies_. Closer in… he could see J. D. practice tossing a baseball high into the air… and then circle to catch it. The eleven-year-old boy waited as the ball reached its peak and then moved to get beneath it… reaching out for the ball with a practiced hand. Sometimes he caught it behind him and then raced about his arms held high… as if he'd made the last out of the last World Series Game.

Methos chuckled. Watching J. D. he was struck, as always, by his son's resemblance to the boy he himself might once have been. Slim, dark-haired, with hazel eyes… mercurial and inquisitive… striving ever for the answers to questions… and the skill to do all things better, Joseph Darius… J. D. … was one of the joys of his life these days. The boy's existence was a miracle. Or at least the visible sign that immortals could have children… if they were willing to sacrifice a part of who they were… a part of their power and quickening. They were the antithesis of the Game.

Methos chuckled to himself as he recalled his argument with Eleanor about naming him before he was born.

"Fergus? No son of mine will be named Fergus!"

"Twas my grandfather's name. A good Scots name!"

"I'm not Scottish! Can't you just see him being teased by the other boys growing up?"

Eleanor had smiled. "Oh and Methos, Jr. won't get any smirks?"

"I'm not advocating that either. It's just… _Fergus_?"

But she'd been teasing. Besides… once the boy was born and they'd held him in their arms… there had been no question as to his name… They'd looked at him and then at each other… "Joseph… Darius… J. D." they'd said almost in unison.

J. D. gave him a wave and continued his game of catch. Methos took a deep breath. _Time for them moves so swiftly… I need to play with him more._ The world's oldest immortal continued across the grounds toward the arbored sandbox. There sat Eleanor… her bare toes buried in the sand as she regarded four-year-old Marianna. If J. D. had been eagerly anticipated, Marianna had not been.

"We need to wait," he'd insisted to Eleanor. "It takes too much out of you. Besides… we still don't know how J. D. will be different. We need to let him grow up and then see what happens before trying this again."

"It will be different. There will be three of us the next time. We need to see how it's properly done." She'd grinned impishly. In the end he'd agreed… taking on an even greater responsibility with Marianna than he had with J. D. As he watched his daughter draw patterns in the sand with a stick, Methos could not help but recall her mother at that age. For a moment the scene in that ancient Scots courtyard came visibly to mind and he paused. Eleanor met his gaze with a smile. She could see it as well. Memories of the events of her childhood… forgotten for so many years… were hers once more… through his memories of her.

Marianna stood, dropped the stick, and wiped her hands together and then on her pink gingham sundress. Seeing her father… she raised her hands as she grinned widely, "Daddy!"

Methos swooped her into his arms, and blew against her neck, making a loud raspberry. Marianna giggled and hugged his neck.

"Listen Angel… I need to talk to Mommy… Can you go play with your brother?" He kissed her cheek.

Marianna nodded and toddled off to bother J. D.

"Watch your sister!" Methos called.

In answer J. D. stomped a foot. Even from here Methos knew he was saying, "Awwwwww!" But when Marianna was close enough… he easily rolled the ball in her direction for her to catch, pick up, and race off with. J. D. raced after her and circled around corralling her until he could snatch the ball. Then they'd go through the routine again… their laughter a backdrop for their parents' conversation.

"So? What is it?" Eleanor's quiet voice was filled with questions.

Methos turned with a sigh and offered her the faxfilm.

She chuckled and grasped it. Then her expression sobered as she saw first the picture… and then read the article. Looking up she met his gaze evenly. He felt only sincerity from her. "We have to find him."

Methos nodded and sat down on the side of the sandbox next to her. "I know. I thought I'd head out there in the morning and see what I can find out."

"Not tonight?"

Methos shook his head. "There are other things I want to do tonight. Besides… I want you to take the children and go to Niebos while I'm gone."

"A lovely idea but why would I want to do that?"

"Because one of us has to remain with them… and I'd feel better if you three were someplace safe. Someplace where there was another of us… a support system in case you needed it. Besides… weren't you thinking of going anyway in a few months… to be there for Grace when her time comes?"

Eleanor nodded. His words made sense. The children they were raising were the most important people on the earth to them right now. J. D. and Marianna had to come first… had to be safe. If Methos wasn't here… they needed not to be either. As for Grace and the impending birth of her daughter, Eleanor did want to be there for that. She leaned into Methos' encircling embrace and sighed. Tears formed in her eyes. "Find him for me."

Methos kissed her hair and hugged her tighter. "I'll try."

The afternoon shadows lengthened into evening… and the first stars were visible in the deep purple sky before they went in. About them… fireflies… danced attendance… and the children's voices were filled with the urgency of the moment… and the joy of youth.

-----

The next morning, Methos saw his family off in a taxi to the airport and packed his own gear into the **_Centaur_**. He was slamming the trunk shut when he noticed Jayne standing next to the passenger side of the car… a travel-bag slung over her shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?" he groused as he crossed to the driver's side.

"I'm coming with you. It _is_ my job."

"Your job is here." He opened the door to climb in.

Jayne opened the other door and tossed her bag into the backseat. "I beg to differ. You are my assignment and you damn well know it."

Methos sighed as he fingered his keys. "You are here to watch both of us Jayne. You are not to be following me around. That's part of the arrangement."

"Well… things changed when you sent Eleanor and the kids to Niebos. You know only one Watcher is allowed there. You were effectively forcing me out of a job."

"You can stay here. You can pick up when I get back."

Jayne buckled the seatbelt. "Nope. I'm going."

"Fine… you stay in the car and I'll take another."

"And I'll follow." Jayne turned to meet his gaze as she laid one hand on Methos' arm. "I am not my father. Do you think I don't know why you requested me to be your Watcher? How you still feel guilty after all these years for the way you treated him? For what happened to him? Hey! My father is fine. And when you requested me… he told me to stick to you like glue and not be put off by your attitude." She sat back in the seat. "So you might as well drive, or deal with being followed."

"You don't even know what this is about."

"No… but perhaps you'll enlighten me. Let me see… Is it an immortal who poses a danger and only you can protect the others? No! Or… let's see… Is it an immortal against whom you have an old grudge and you want to deal with him now that he's surfaced? … I did see the picture on that fax."

"You know nothing." Methos turned on the ignition.

"Then it's an immortal who means something to Eleanor and you have to find him."

Methos was silent.

"That's it… isn't it!" Jayne sounded triumphant.

"Just stay out of my way. And don't think this little trip is going anywhere. My wife will know if you have any ulterior motives."

Jayne laughed. "Who do you think suggested I go with you?"

Methos sent a growling image in Eleanor's direction as he pulled out of the circular driveway. He'd engage the jet engine once he reached the freeway… but until then… they'd travel in the old manner. Within his mind… he could hear her teasing laughter and feel her lips brush against his brow.

**-----**


	9. Chapter Eoght

**Chapter Eight  
****Denver, CO:**

The worst of the storm had blown itself out in less than an hour. The power had come back about twenty minutes after that. Once it did, Amber had clicked the television on and had seen that a wave of tornadoes had descended on the area and were still creating problems east of here. Denver had escaped any major damage… but lines were down, and some roofs and awnings had blown off and created additional damage as they'd blown through the air.

"This unusual storm front is only the latest in a series of climatic events this year that has heralded unusual weather throughout the world." Amber had lowered the sound and scrunched down in the covers of the bed next to Derrick. Outside, rain still poured in a steady sheet and did so for the remainder of the day and most of the night.

By the next morning… the sun shown brightly and street crews could already be seen working on the cleanup from the hotel window were she stood, dressed and ready to hit the road once more. The door between their rooms was open and she could hear three male voices joking around. They didn't seem to be in any hurry. Derrick had ordered a room service breakfast and had it delivered next door. While Amber had been glad of hot food not cooked by one of them… she had no desire to remain here.

For one thing… during the night she'd felt an immortal in the hall. Whoever it was had hesitated on the other side of their door. Amber could swear she'd also heard a keycard click in the lock and the door open slightly. The bolt had been on… so the door had closed and eventually the presence had faded. Derrick had evidently sensed nothing. Nor, she felt, had Burke and Wingate. When she'd said something about it over breakfast… the three had looked at her strangely.

"You were likely dreaming," Derrick had said quietly.

"I was not dreamin'!" she'd replied. That's when she'd come back in here with her cup of coffee. She was ready to go. If someone had a keycard that worked… likely they worked in the hotel somehow… perhaps using it as a personal hunting ground. Or had it been one of the others? Would their card have worked? Despite the ease of the others… Amber had not lived so long by being careless. She was older than all three of them put together… and she knew that they would be wise to listen to her.

In the past few days, Wingate had told them of his youth in Ante-Bellum America… and his eventual death in the Civil War.

"I died at Gettysburg," he'd told them. "After that," he shrugged, "I headed west."

"Who was yar teacher?" Amber had wanted to know.

"I've had several. But the best one was a schoolteacher in some one-horse western town. He taught Latin and Greek and Classical History and was the best-damned swordsman I ever saw. Course… I only knew him about three days before he vanished on me. He was using the name Earl Madison at the time."

Derrick had chuckled.

Wingate sat up suddenly pointing at Derrick. "I knew it! You learned from him too!"

Derrick shrugged. "Well I knew him… although I never really learned swordsmanship from him… but from some of his friends."

"Ahh!" Wingate had waved at him. "I knew it that night! Madison once told me that he didn't really take students… but he would offer advice on form if someone were worthy of it. That move I put on you was one he showed me. It had never failed me… but you knew it!"

Derrick had shrugged with a sheepish grin. "What move? I just watched your eyes. Everything you were going to do was reflected in your eyes moments before you made it."

Wingate had leaned closer to Burke. "Next time I fight him… I'll have to remember to close my eyes!" Burke had nodded and laughed hysterically. Those two were becoming quite close. Wingate had started working with Burke… with sticks of course… as to how to really use a sword. He'd asked about retrieving his and was told "maybe later." He'd not asked again. Instead, he seemed to have settled into the pattern of their gypsy lifestyle. But he still made Amber uneasy.

Derrick entered their room. "Checkout's not until eleven. We can stay until then if you wish."

"What I wish is to know why we're even here?"

Derrick shrugged. "Did you want to spend the storm in the elements? I didn't. I didn't think you did either."

"But why Denver? Why a large city? Why downtown? Why the bank?"

Derrick reached back and closed the door between their rooms, crossing to stand before her, his voice low as he took her hands.

"I saw the storm was coming and that we needed better shelter than outdoors. For this I needed to withdraw a little extra money from my account. To do that… I needed a larger bank with international connections."

Amber raised one eyebrow. "Ya have a Swiss account?"

Derrick shrugged. "Some friends set it up for me years ago."

"Then why in heaven's name are we livin' hand-to-mouth?" Amber pulled her arms free and turned away angrily.

Derrick had laughed as he'd wrapped his arms around her from the back. "I've always lived this way. Besides… others need money more. I can always work for more… it's just… right now… it was nice to just travel and see things."

Amber began to chuckle lightly at the absurdity of his words. "Ya know… ya may be right. If ya live for centuries… ya need to always know ya have a nest egg." She sobered as she turned in his embrace to face him… their faces only inches apart. "Do ya plan on livin' for centuries, Derrick Foster?"

Derrick shrugged. "If the fates allow."

Amber heard a defeatist tone in his voice… as if what was important was today.

She smiled. "Aye… there is that. We have to be ready to face death each and every day… and _you_… Ya need a proper teacher… and I don't know if I should be it."

"Then be my friend."

Amber snorted. "Friend? Aye… friend I be." She snuggled closer and kissed him. Then she pulled back and glanced at her watch. "Ya say we don't have to check out for three more hours?"

Derrick swept her up into his arms with a wide grin as he carried her over to the unmade bed and tossed her onto it. "Whatever you wish?" Then he pounced.

-----

By eleven they'd checked out and hit the road… heading north. Derrick had not said where they were heading… Amber doubted if he knew. He just wanted to see the interior of the country… and help out people along the way if he could. And for some reason… he needed or wanted or at least felt more comfortable with other immortals around. Burke and Wingate followed behind them. Amber had settled into the pattern of their life… and seemed, if not at peace with it… at least resigned to the way of it… She still wondered about the unknown immortal at the hotel who'd tried their door last night… and whether or not they were truly safe… or were asking for trouble.

"Katie-girl," she mumbled under her breath, "Ya need to keep an eye on these three… none of them are really ready for the world out there but Wingate… and him, ya shouldn't trust… not yet. There's still somthin' about him." She tightened her grip on Derrick's lean form, and leaned closer.

-----

**St. Louis, MO:**

Methos slowed to eighty and then punched off the jets. He'd made great time so far, but he was hungry… and ready to stretch his legs. He'd considered flying out to California… but he didn't really think Derrick was there. Knowing the boy… no… make that man… as well as he did… Methos figured he was traveling. The ancient immortal knew he'd need reliable independent transportation… and speed. His **_Centaur_** was the way to go. Although technically, he was only supposed to engage the jetdrive in the speed lanes of the freeway… he knew in an emergency… it might prove welcome.

"Hungry?" he asked Jayne. He glanced over at her. She had her father's red hair and freckles… but was tall and nicely proportioned. At twenty-five… she'd been a little young to be tapped for his Watcher… but she was right… he still felt he owed Timothy Wyatt for what had happened to the young man. He'd nearly died because Peter Taylor had wanted "Adams" dead. Methos sighed. He had a great deal of baggage. He'd made enemies over the millennia… and while most of them were long dead… there were still a few lingering about. At least none of them now living knew his true name.

Besides the circle of immortals he now considered close friends, only the Watchers assigned to the project knew Methos was real rather than myth. Amy Meyers handpicked members of the project herself… and she was very thorough. Methos allowed a Watcher with the family for a period of two years… and then they moved on. Part of this was to protect the children's identities. After all, he'd not mentioned to any mortal that the children were biologically theirs. That was a secret he and the immortals who knew of it had agreed needed to be kept secret until, at least, they were grown. Jayne was nearing the end of her time with him. Professional and diligent, she worked very hard transcribing the memoirs he was willing to share with the Watchers… and generally filled her days transmitting them to Amy. Amy was the one who was putting it all together… and it was for her… and her sacrifice and dedication that he had allowed this. That and Joe.

"Hell, Methos," Joe had said. "You two are embarking on new territory with this bond of yours. You should let us chronicle it. So it's never lost."

"I like my privacy," Methos had grumbled sipping from his beer. They'd been at **_Le Blues Bar_** ten years ago, not long after J. D.'s first birthday and their return to Paris.

While Joe still owned the club… his hours there were way down. He came in to play with the house-band on Tuesdays and Thursdays… and usually was in for a while on Saturdays to visit with old patrons. His restriction to the wheelchair had still chaffed him a bit. Joe had also insisted on continuing to wear the prostheses… "Ya never know when I'll have to run for cover!" he'd blasted at the doctor who'd insisted it was not a good idea… it might prove too tempting. But Joe had proven the doctors wrong and was still alive and as cantankerous and ornery as ever… if not more so.

At any rate… they'd crafted a plan and an agreement: One Watcher as a member of the household for two years. Then they'd leave. No argument… no protestations. No loose-lips mentioning things to others.

So far it had worked. Most had been earnest middle-aged men. But when Methos had heard that Tim Wyatt's daughter was ready for a field assignment… he'd asked for her. Jayne Wyndham-Wyatt was smart, beautiful, and not a bit awe-struck. It was that quality that had helped Methos open up a bit to her about some of the events of his long past… at least the ones he could remember… and the ones he was ready to come clean about.

"As a matter of fact… I am!" Jayne flashed him a grin as she looked up from her enhanced PPC. She'd been working non-stop since they'd left the horse-farm on the notes he'd dictated yesterday… before Joe and Amy had called. "Where are we exactly?"

"Outskirts of St. Louis," Methos said, noting an exit ramp and slowing his speed to that of the ambient traffic patterns as he moved from the speed lanes to the slower ones and then off the freeway itself and into traffic. "I think there's a **_Masterson's_** ahead. That okay?"

"Fine, although I always find them a bit loud and awfully crowded."

"Exactly my point," Methos retorted. "Just keep quiet and say little."

"Oh? We're not to dance on the bar and sing drinking songs?" She grinned.

Methos gave her a hurt look. "I haven't done that for three hundred years. Besides… the war had ended… Everyone was dancing!"

"And what war would that be?"

"I don't remember," he admitted. "I was drunk at the time." Jayne laughed.

In the restaurant, they had about a ten-minute wait and then were seated. After ordering Methos pulled out his PPC and began checking emails. As expected… he saw one from MacLeod indicating he'd heard from Joe and did "ROG" need any help. Methos smirked. At some point in the last thirty odd years, since the Watchers had learned who he was, those that knew of him called him ROG in all their communications. Even those who knew his identity did so… and somewhere MacLeod had picked up on it. Methos couldn't ever recall using Roger or Rogers in any of his identities… but perhaps it was just as well. At least they weren't using his real name or any of his identities in their correspondence.

He tapped out a "No!" and moved on. One from Phillip indicated Eleanor and the children had arrived safely. Methos smiled. He'd already known that. Even from half a world away… he'd sensed her safe arrival in Athens and her glee at returning to Niebos. Her mind was filled with visions of the last time they'd been there… Methos shifted in his seat… aware that Eleanor was responding to his thoughts with warm thoughts of her own. Then she laughed and withdrew.

"Is she all right?" Jayne asked from the far side of the table. A knowing smile played across her lips. She could always tell when the two of them were communicating.

"Fine," Methos said closing his PPC and slipping it into his shirt pocket, patting it once he did so. The newest ones were so small and light… he sometimes feared to lose his. Of course he'd made certain not to keep anything on his that could create problems if it fell into the wrong hands. It was mainly a silent and swift means of communication with MacLeod, Phillip, and a few others. They'd learned over the years to stay in daily contact… and keep abreast of what was happening to each other in the distant parts of the world. Never again would they be so isolated that they'd be unaware of things happening which might impact all of them. Henry Rawlins had cemented relationships between immortals in ways he might never have expected. At least he and his "bastard immortals" were all dead as were most of the scientists who'd created them.

Methos reached for his beer and was sipping it thirstily when he felt the tingle of an immortal presence enter the restaurant. Surreptitiously, he let his gaze travel to the hostess stand and to the woman standing there looking about. He looked away with a groan.

"Who is it?" asked Jayne.

"Someone I'd rather not have a conversation with," groused Methos setting his beer down. But it was not a meeting that would be avoided.

Sarah Manning crossed the restaurant and made a beeline for his table. "Ben? I haven't seen you in… years?"

"I've been busy… and you?"

"Oh… here and there…" She turned and gave Jayne the once-over with a knowing smile. "Ben and I are old friends… or… do you go by Ben these days?"

Jayne smiled slightly. She was, Methos could tell, in full Watcher mode, attempting to memorize for the Chronicle… every word spoken.

"Ben's fine," Methos said reluctantly.

"Oh… " Sarah sounded almost disappointed that she hadn't created a problem with the use of the only name she probably knew.

Just then she flagged a passing waitress and indicated she would join her "friends" for dinner. With that she pulled another chair up to the table and settled in. Methos groaned inwardly as she ordered.

Sarah Manning had been a hostess at a San Francisco Men's club early this century. He'd gotten to know her shortly after Eleanor had left him. While Methos hadn't remained long in San Francisco once Eleanor left… he'd remained long enough to finish tying up the threads of his identity there… financier and wealthy businessman Benjamin Adams… and setting up the blind trusts to look after the properties he wanted to retain. Sarah had helped fill some lonely evenings. She'd been pre-immortal at the time… and he hadn't said anything to her about immortals or the game. Until he'd been in Watchers back in the early nineties, and run across her file, he hadn't even known if her immortality had been triggered and if she'd entered the game. She had… oh yes… she most definitely had. He'd read through it with a touch of sadness.

Her chestnut hair was no longer long or swept up in the style she'd worn one hundred twelve years ago. She'd sheared most of it off and wore it short. Her hazel eyes twinkled merrily and he knew she was enjoying the moment in having found him and making him uncomfortable. Her Chinese influenced red silk top had small black dragons embroidered on it. She wore a long black silk coat over it… long enough to hide her sword, he reasoned. Her black skirt was split high on the side. When she crossed her legs… he was aware how high the slit came and what it revealed. Then one booted foot rubbed up and down the inside of his leg. Evidently… Sarah expected them to take up where they'd left off… or at the least… she was expecting to make him even more uncomfortable.

Leaning one arm on the table she rested her chin on the back of her hand and regarded Jayne. "Girlfriend? Wife? Date?" Sarah's foot continued to rub and probe against his leg.

Methos ground his teeth, flushed slightly, and quickly grabbed again for his beer as he shifted to avoid her foot, already regretting that he'd insisted on a crowded and very public restaurant.

Jayne smiled knowingly. "Friends," she finally said. She knew enough to say as little as possible. She certainly wasn't going to let on that she knew about immortals… about "Ben's" current name… or the fact that he was married. She was a Watcher… and she was determined to just Watch. Besides… this could become interesting.

-----


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine  
****Niebos, Greece:**

The warm sea breezes of Niebos welcomed Eleanor home in a way no other place ever would. She'd never truly lived here… nor would she ever. Her home was wherever Methos was… but she still thrilled as she set foot on the stone docks once more.

The high-altitude trans-Atlantic flight between Washington D.C. and Athens had been short… far shorter than the ferry ride from Athens to Niebos. J.D. had raced about the ferry… trying to see everything that could be seen. He'd point out the dolphins swimming alongside and laugh at their antics.

As Eleanor descended the gangplank with Marianna in her arms, a bag over her shoulder, accompanied by J. D. who was dragging a somewhat larger bag, she was struck by the age-old familiarity of the island. It had been two and a half years since they'd been here but it might have been two and half centuries so little had changed in all the time she'd been coming here. Even still, Marianna likely would have no memories of the people here or of this place… but J. D. would.

Eleanor was surprised, therefore, when as Phillip approached, Marianna squirmed from her mother's arms and ran swiftly to the Greek.

"_Opa_!" she laughed as he gathered her into his arms and hugged her tightly. She remembered him… he was her other parent, after all.

"Look at you… look at how you've grown!" Phillip said to the little girl in his arms, even as he offered Eleanor his cheek and tousling the dark hair on J. D.'s head. "Welcome! I have rooms ready and the others are waiting. I had to put my foot down to keep some of them from coming with me."

"It wouldn't have mattered," Eleanor added with a smile… falling into step beside him. She glanced back at J. D. "Can you manage or do you want some help?"

"I'm fine… I can do it!" Methos had admonished him to look after his mother and sister. The boy was determined to do just that. He held his head proudly in the mantle of his new responsibility.

"Let me know if you need a rest," Phillip added. "We're in no hurry and the path is steep." He grinned at Eleanor with a wink. "So… Derrick is one of us after all," Phillip sighed. "I found myself hoping he wouldn't be… that he'd get to have that single life he wanted so badly."

"Apparently. I take it he didn't contact you either?"

"No… that boy always had his eye set on something we never saw. Maybe this is just the next step."

"But without guidance…" Eleanor's voice trailed away. She was worried about Derrick. Even though the picture on the fax had been that of a grown man, it was still the boy she saw in her mind's eye. Either the terrified six-year-old boy huddled beneath a highway overpass… or the ten-year-old lying half-dead in a hospital bed… or the eighteen-year-old she'd bid a sad farewell to. The idea that he was physically now older than she was… even physically older than Methos was… did not seem real to her.

Phillip's free arm curled about her shoulders like the proverbial big brother he always seemed to be. "He's fine. He's likely still gazing about and wandering and wondering as he contemplates his future and tries to find his place in the scheme of things."

Eleanor nodded, but she didn't really feel comforted.

Later after the meet and greet with Grace Chandel, John Kirin, Greg Powers and the small ones still on the island, as well as a nod to Douglas Monaghan… the latest Watcher in residence here… a bath and a meal… Eleanor settled on the terrace to watch Denara playing blocks with Marianna. In the distance… Chou and Denis had been dragged into a game of catch with J. D. The boy knew of immortals… and had handled with cool aplomb, that while he'd grown in two and a years… the other two hadn't. He seemed fine with it, every inch his father's son. His laughter rang out in the semi-darkness.

Denara seemed a bit peeved at and yet a bit indulgent of Marianna's attention… the two were of a similar physical age… but Denara knew so much more. Phillip settled down in a chair next to Eleanor.

"I was surprised she remembered me," he said indicating Marianna.

"So was I," Eleanor replied sipping her wine.

Both of her children had been born here. J. D. because Methos had wanted them with Grace in case the one-time immortal mid-wife might be more clear-headed in the delivery of his son than he'd be. And second because he'd wanted Eleanor's last few months of pregnancy… when she'd shown and was so vulnerable… to be someplace out of the way… someplace safe.

Unlike the whirlwind development that had been Alisaunne… with her immense power and needs… J. D. had taken not quite nine months to put in an appearance once they'd decided that they indeed wanted this child. That he was the final gift and apology of the last of Darius' quickening that had remained with Derrick… an attempt by the priest to make up for what he'd done in forcing Alisaunne's creation from them and then taking her from them, keeping her existence a secret… had made him even more special. J. D. was their chance to have a normal life… at least for a while. He was also to be the proof that someday all immortals could have children. Darius' letters concerning Alisaunne were not proof. She was too much just another immortal… and there was still her blood bond with Nestor that might yet corrupt her entirely. J. D., on the other hand, was a harbinger of a far-off future that with patience and hard-work might one day arrive.

Eleanor smiled when she recalled Methos' objections about another child… that it was too soon and too unnecessary.

"We need to show that it can be done the way it was intended… without magical gifts from the dead. And this time there will be three of us throughout the process. Phillip will help. He's already agreed."

The three of them had gone to the cove one night as the tide was on its way out. They'd stood on the rocks and Phillip had pointed out the chained form of Valeraine… Nestor… below the water's surface. "I come out here everyday at low tide to check on her… to talk to her. Even though she's dead and drowned… she might still hear me… I pray some remnant of her remains… and that one day she can be free."

Then, as the sea-spray sparkled in the light of the full moon and the waves crashed around them… the three had embraced, fully open to and wishing to share all they were and all they had become. And the flash had happened as some part of Phillip's essence had triggered in Eleanor and Methos the ability to once more conceive a child. All three were in agreement. All three would help raise and care for the child. All three would be the parents. Phillip had kissed Eleanor's brow as he splashed away through the water, leaving the lovers to what must next happen.

Behind him, Methos was already bending her onto the rock ledge… consumed with his need for her… as she was for him. As the waters rose… on the sacred holy ground of the ancient oracle of Niebos… they'd made love. Later he'd carried her to the beach where they'd continued until the water of the incoming tide had begun to splash over them.

"It's a girl," she'd laughed.

Methos had held a hand over her abdomen and smiled. All doubt about what they were attempting gone. She'd felt the new life take hold and pull some of his life force into it.

"May she be as endearing as her mother," he'd said.

They'd had to climb the steep stairs carved from the stone cliff after that as the beach path had been under water by that time. Above in the ruins of the old temple complex… in what had been the oracle's private chamber according to Phillip… they spent the night under the moon and stars…

"Should we name her Aja? Or perhaps Danaë" Methos had asked.

"There was only one Aja. Let me think on it for a while. I have nine months to decide." She'd settled on Marianna… a form of Mary… one of the names she'd used frequently over the centuries… and Phillipa… for Phillip without whose help their daughter would not exist.

And Phillip's contribution had continued throughout the pregnancy and even after Marianna had been born and laid in his eager arms. He'd supplied the growing infant with much of what he was… while Methos had endeavored to heal and lend strength to Eleanor. Her husband had been terrified the entire time that she'd die… and much of what he was… was shared with her, strengthening the bond between them.

They'd left here once Marianna was old enough to be without Phillip. Like J. D. and like Alisaunne before them… the children born of immortal unions needed far more than just food and drink. They were like sponges soaking up the power of the immortals they were around. J. D. had already learned to heal by the time they'd left here a few years ago. Marianna was still vulnerable… yet her presence was staggering at times. She was a magnet for other immortals. Thus… Methos had sent them here until he could be with them again. Eleanor had understood his concern… and had no argument… though she might have wished to be with him on his quest. Their children's needs came first.

Thinking about these two young ones… made Eleanor think about her lost child… Alisaunne. Fully immortal and a part of the game… she was truly safe only in the secret grove in Paris. The further she roamed from it… or from Paris and the site of the Ancient Ones' burial at the well there… the more susceptible to Nestor's thoughts she became.

She was not allowed on Niebos at all anymore. She'd come once… before J. D. was born, and had nearly gone mad attempting to find and release Nestor. MacLeod had taken her back to Paris. He and Amanda kept an eye on her although they currently lived in Florence. Cassandra had also spent time with Eleanor's daughter, evidently sharing tricks on how to control psychic visions and otherworldly perceptions of the universe. Alisaunne was not psychic, nor was she gifted with sight the way Cassandra was… but she did seem to know and not know things… and there were times that her visions of Nestor and his perversions were all that she knew.

At present, Alisaunne continued to live at the grove in Paris, and worked at translating the writing on the stone walls of the pre-historic cavern hidden beneath the remains of **_St. Julien Le Pauvre_**, Darius' old church. She was as obsessed with that place… as Darius had ever been. Watchers did not know about the grove and its secrets or about Alisaunne's identity. All they knew was that she was an immortal… likely the last one to be in the game… and that she lived in Paris. She had an apartment on _Rue Monge_… but she was seldom there.

She was also known to sometimes hunt the night for immortals she perceived of as evil. According to the last reports… she'd taken over a dozen heads in the last twelve years. She wasn't overly active… but was far more so than Eleanor had ever been. They had little in common. Except perhaps in their love of Darius. And even that was always difficult for them to discuss. He'd been so different to each of them. He'd meant different things… and he'd deceived them both. Eleanor had made her peace with his lies… her daughter had not.

Ian's death still troubled Alisaunne. She felt responsible… believing that if she'd been faster… moved differently… she might have prevented it. Ian's quickening inside her gave her little comfort. It was simply there… like the comatose immortals cared for on Niebos. No matter what Grace had told her… that if Ian had lived that he'd likely have been as the others were… did anything to ease her mind. Alisaunne burned darkly with Ian's loss… and her hatred of Watchers was also well known. Amy kept her people far from Alisaunne in hopes that no one would provoke the young immortal. If she attacked their assignment… they were to take note of it and leave. They were not to approach her nor attempt to follow her. So far no mortals had died… but Eleanor often felt that it was only a matter of time.

The last time Methos had attempted to meet with her had nearly proven disastrous. Eleanor still shuddered at the memories of that. She hadn't been there… but she'd seen it through their bond… as well as his sharing it with her later. No… Alisaunne was better left to others.

As if he were aware of her on his side of the world… Methos touched her mind… softly… wishing he were there.

_You are doing what you must! Bring him back to me! Find him for me!_ she'd sent brightly. She blew him a mental kiss and withdrew laughing. He did not need to be focused on her fears and unhappiness. He needed to find Derrick, and to remain safe so that he could return to his family.

-----

**St. Louis, MO:**

Extricating himself and Jayne from the attentions of Sarah Manning had proven difficult. When they'd finished dinner and were set to leave, she'd asked where they were staying.

"Just passing though," Methos had groused. Trouble was… he was tired and had planned on grabbing a room and a night's sleep before pushing on west. He was also beginning to wish he'd chanced the air travel.

"Really? Which way you headed?" Sarah's voice peaked in interest.

"North… We're headed north. Chicago," he'd said quickly… possibly a bit too quickly. Jayne's eyes widened slightly in surprise… but she said nothing.

"Oh… too bad," Sarah said as she signed her charge slip. Methos had not offered to pay for her food. "Well… next time then." Sarah had walked out with them and then waved good-bye cheerily as she crossed the lot to her car.

"Old friend?" Jayne teased as they headed to his.

"Don't start!" Methos grumbled. His affair with Sarah was not something he wanted to think about… nor one of the events he'd wanted on his chronicle. His time in San Francisco at the dawn of the twentieth century was one of the gaping holes in what the Watchers knew. He wanted to keep it that way.

Once re-buckled into the **_Centaur_**, Jayne had refused to let it drop, however. "So… does Eleanor know about her?"

Methos started the ignition saying nothing.

"I thought you two shared everything?"

"We do." He shifted the ignition and pulled slowly out of the lot.

"And are we going to Chicago?"

"No… but I need to start out as if we are and then find a room for the night."

"Two rooms."

He shot her a sharp glance and then chuckled as he laughed. "Right… two rooms."

North of St. Louis he found a mid-range hotel that was evidently hosting a convention of some sort. It had rooms available, however. He rented two using the Adam Pierson identity… across and down the hall from one another… and had settled into his for the evening when he felt an immortal in the hall and heard the knock at his door.

It was Sarah. He peered through the security peephole and saw her standing in the hall with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a smirk plastered across her face. She opened her coat as if to show she was unarmed.

"I know I'm going to regret this," the ancient immortal mumbled as he unlocked and opened the door a crack. "It's late. I'm not in the mood for company."

"You act as if you have company when I _know_ your friend is down the hall. That's not like you Ben… or Adam… or _Eden _or whatever you're really using these days."

Methos raised one eyebrow. _How the hell does she know about Eden?_ He'd only used that one once in the past century. He stepped to one side and opened the door widely. "I have a feeling if I don't at least talk to you, you'd stand in the hallway and create a scene."

Sarah sauntered into the room provocatively and winked as she passed. "Clever boy."

Methos let the door close behind him. He crossed his arms before him. "So what do you wish to discuss?"

"Ooh… right to business. You never used to be so abrupt." She peeled the foil from the champagne and popped the cork, grabbing two of the glasses from the tray on the desk and pouring the bubbly. She offered him a glass. Methos didn't take it.

"Get to the point."

Sarah drank hers down swiftly. She'd drunk that way even back when he'd known her. Pouring another glass for herself she seemed to consider what she wanted to say. Finally she asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"That you had the potential to be immortal? That I was immortal?" Methos shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. If you've been around for the last century you should know that."

"Oh… I know. But… why didn't you kill me?" She stepped closer to him. He could smell her musky perfume.

"I don't kill pre-immortals."

"Well the next immortal I met had no such scruples. Do you have any idea what it was like to be strangled to death and then to wake up in a coffin?" She turned sharply and stalked to the sofa, dropping onto it heavily. She leaned forward. "Thankfully it was still on a wagon with several others. I climbed out and figured there had been some mistake. I had no idea what had happened! When I went back to the house… the other girls were terrified of me. They'd been to my funeral. They'd seen my dead body."

Methos looked off into the distance… his eyes unfocused. He nodded as if to say he understood.

"I could have used a friend."

"I'd already left San Francisco by then."

"Yeah. Well… the immortal who'd killed me… showed up later the same night and explained things. At least that he'd made me immortal and would keep me immortal or kill me depending on whether or not I pleased him. Do you have any idea what that was like?" Her accusatory tone made Methos blanche slightly.

"Yes… I do." His voice was low… his words barely audible.

"Anyway… long story short… I finally extricated myself from him after a few years and found a teacher. I never gave you another thought until I saw you on stage in 1970 with the Rolling Stones… you were some kind of a music promoter or something and you were making an announcement from the stage during an intermission. You felt me. You finished up and raced backstage… and… as I later found out… vanished. Eden Peyton was gone as if the earth had swallowed him up. But…" she grinned. "I pretended to be Scotland Yard and interviewed your friends and co-workers. That little pink-haired girl… Candy… was especially gushing in her praises of you."

"Old news. An old life." Methos shrugged. He'd been bored with that life and fully prepared to leave that night once he'd finished his job at the concert. But when he'd felt an immortal in the audience… he'd made quick work of it and had vanished as she had said. As for Candy… Methos chuckled. He remembered her fondly.

"Well… I was floored. You'd been an immortal when you were with me… and you'd said and done nothing. I just always wondered why?" She set the empty glass on the coffee table along with the bottle and stood… stepping close to him once more. She gazed sadly into his gray eyes… "Was I not interesting enough? Creative enough? Beautiful enough?" She raised her face and there was no doubt what she wanted.

Methos shook his head. "I'm married."

"So? You were then, too. As I recall… your wife had left you. Besides…" her fingers lightly touched his left hand. "I see no ring." She looked around with a smile. "I see no wife. In fact… I see no one here but you and me." She laid one hand lightly on his chest, slipping a finger around a button and tugging. "She doesn't have to know."

Methos shook his head and chuckled as he took her hand and patted it before dropping it. "Trust me. She knows." He'd been feeling an amused Eleanor over his shoulder chuckling at his discomfort for some time. He turned toward the door. "Now if there's nothing else… it's time you left."

Behind him Sarah sighed audibly. "If you insist," she said with dejection.

Methos opened the door as she approached. Sarah paused and turned toward him suddenly leaning against him as she placed one hand between his legs and squeezed, smiling at his response. "But we could be so good together. If she's mortal… she'll grow old and die. I have time on my side and I can wait. And if she's immortal…" Sarah's smile widened, "… you'll eventually move on. You always do. I'll find you again… Ben… or Eden… or Adam… or whoever." She kissed him lightly, he hand squeezing him harder, and then she stepped back. "Ta!" she smirked as she sauntered through the door.

Methos let it close behind her, this time putting the security bolt on as he leaned with his back against the closed door.

"That was fun," he smirked.

Eleanor seemed to laugh. Then he could feel her. His little adventure had fully awakened her. In the early dawn light of Niebos, she seemed to stretch in her bed and lay one small hand on Marianna, as if to be certain she slept. Then he could feel Eleanor against him… next to his skin… flowing over him. Her lips brushed his and her fingers traced patterns on his bare skin. Methos closed his eyes and reached for her mentally… doing the same. She was with him… he was not alone. Not unless he wished it. And he most definitely did not.

-----


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten  
****Seacouver, WA:**

Derrick had angled back towards the coast as they'd made their way through the mountains. They'd continued camping out… sometimes in areas where there were other transients… but had met no other immortals.

Amber watched his easy manner with all he met… the way he listened to their concerns… and the way people opened up to him. He didn't prod and ask questions… he was just there… so focused on whoever said something… that somehow… they just kept talking and seemed to arrive at answers that had always eluded them. She knew that feeling.

When they were alone… the four of them… as Burke and Wingate continued to follow along… the others spoke of their pasts… Well… Burke's didn't make a whole lot of sense … but he was definitely beginning to string thoughts together… and his words were more and more coherent.

The weather… after the storm fronts that had moved through Denver returned to being warm and sunny. The heat continued to rise… and Amber felt cool only when they were moving… when the wind blew against her. She sometimes removed her safety helmet on long open stretches just to feel the wind.

When he'd headed west, toward the coast… he'd given no reason. He'd just shrugged and said he wanted to see the area.

On the southeastern edge of the port city… they'd arrived at a massive depressed area. He'd paused the jet cycle on the boundary and stared at the sheer size of the area and the large numbers of people milling about. He seemed to shudder and then shake his head.

Amber leaned forward whispering. "Ya're not alone. I'm here. We're all here."

He seemed to chuckle. She felt some of the tension drain from his back muscles. He leaned back slightly and turned to her. "I think… though… we need to stay elsewhere." He headed out of the area passing Burke, who braked to a stop. Derrick waved and said something about waiting here for him.

His destination appeared to be a mission situated on the edge of the area. He parked and, clasping Amber's hand tightly, he entered the mission. Inside… a crowd of people ate at metal tables. Amber could feel another immortal present. Derrick's grasp was even tighter as he crossed the crowded open room to the side of a young, dark-haired immortal woman who was taking names and giving meal passes to the people lined up. She looked at them without emotion.

"You don't need my help," she said curtly and turned her attention once more to the people in line.

"But perhaps we can assist you," Derrick said quietly.

The female immortal sat back and stared at him. Finally she laughed. "Can you sweep floors and wash dishes?"

Derrick shrugged. "Of course."

The young woman rose, telling the woman next to her to keep the line moving, and then motioned with her finger for Amber and Derrick to follow her. She led them into a kitchen area where several people were working. "I'm Michelle. I can always use help about this place."

A male immortal approached. Of average height with brown hair, he wiped his hands on his apron and looked at the two newcomers quizzically.

Michelle slipped an arm into the man's. "This is David. We run this place together."

"I remember you," Derrick said.

David shifted and stared. "I'm sorry I don't think so."

Derrick chuckled. "I was a bit younger at the time. About a dozen years ago… Switzerland?"

The faces of both of the new immortals expressed surprise. They looked at one another uneasily. Finally Michelle asked quietly, "You were there?"

Derrick nodded. "I came with your rescuers." He shrugged. "You likely never saw me… but I saw some of you."

Amber stepped back curiously, her eyes shifting between all three of them. "Ya're talkin' about the Watchers and their scheme," she said with surprise. "How is it ya know of it Derrick? Ya musta still been a boy."

"Eighteen," Derrick admitted.

David nodded. "I think I remember you now. You came with MacLeod."

Derrick nodded.

Amber felt lost. She knew what had happened in Switzerland… how a group of Watchers led by Henry Rawlins had kidnapped and drugged immortals to study their dreams… to learn what made them immortal… and to steal their immortality from them. She'd been a part of it too… although not in Switzerland. She'd been rescued from Watcher hands by another immortal, Katya. And with her and some others had worked on this side of the globe to find and rescue other immortals. She'd heard the full story only after everything was over.

She stared at Derrick as if she'd never before seen him. "Ya never said anything," she finally said… her voice breaking a bit.

Derrick shrugged. "I didn't think it was important. I was just a boy. I didn't really _do_ anything. I was just there to help my sister and her husband."

Amber turned away, shaking her head. "Ya still shoulda told me."

Derrick reached for her hand, but she shrugged it loose as she stormed out of the kitchen into the dining hall of the mission. She couldn't breathe… she had to get out of here. She still had flashbacks to that time of her life. Although it had been months since it had last happened, she still woke sometimes startled and feeling the taste of the drugs in her mouth. She'd come so close to dying. She hurried through the hall and out into the sunshine where she gulped in a great lungful of air.

A few minutes late, Derrick joined her quietly. "You have enough fears and nightmares without recalling that time of your life."

She glared at him. "Ya still shoulda told me," she repeated.

Derrick nodded at a couple passing them to enter the mission; then stuck his hands in his pockets. "Perhaps I should have. I'm sorry. It's just something I've never spoken of with anyone since the day it happened."

"Because ya never ran into another immortal until me… after ya died."

Derrick nodded. "It was a long time ago. I didn't really think about it until I saw them. They were there. I just never thought about it with you. As I said, you have enough nightmares and fears without talking about that time of your life."

Amber stared at the horizon and wondered how he knew about her nightmares. She pulled the band from her hair and then pulled her hair back into a fresh ponytail. She turned to face Derrick. "So? We still gonna work here?"

Derrick smiled. "I'd like to. I was a boy in this town. I wanted to see it again. Visit some old graves… walk some of the streets and see how much it had changed."

"Ya grew up here?"

Derrick shook his head. "No… but I nearly died here a couple of times. Instead, others died. I need to pay my respects. And… at the same time…" he pulled her into his arms and teasingly kissed her. "I thought we could help out and give something back."

Amber snorted. "Even Burke and Wingate?"

Derrick looked around. "Sure. Burke can sweep the floors. Wingate can wash the dishes. You can serve soup."

Amber looked at him thoughtfully. "And what would you do?"

He looked at her soberly; his blue eyes focused on her. "Whatever is called for. Whatever people need."

Amber nodded and leaned into his chest to rest her head against him and close her eyes. For a moment, she swore she could hear Connor MacLeod's staccato laugh. "_Ahh… Katie-girl… you're in for it now!_"

-----

**Chicago, IL:**

As it turned out… Methos felt it safer to head north rather than continue west. He felt Sarah Manning was still watching him… and he needed to lose her. What better place than Chicago!

"Sorry, my love," he whispered to Eleanor's presence. "It may take longer than I originally thought."

He felt her sadness… but she seemed to nod and agree. He had to lose his little shadow.

Now… among the busy highways surrounding this major mid-western city he drove… shifting from lane to lane, changing directions… aware that while he neither sensed nor saw any sign of being followed… he likely was.

Finally he pulled off the highway and located a hotel.

"We stopping so soon?" Jayne asked.

"I need to make it look like we've arrived at our destination."

"You really think she's following us somehow?" Jayne shook her head.

Methos nodded as he parked the **_Centaur_**. "I'd count on it. I haven't remained alive so long without being cautious and considering all the possibilities."

Jayne smirked. "So the secret of your longevity is paranoia."

Methos eyed her carefully and then nodded. "Wait here… I'll see about rooms."

Once they were checked-in, he left Jayne at the hotel while he drove the car to a service station and had it put on a rack for diagnostics.

He stood in the waiting area… drinking bitter vending machine coffee and smelling gas, oil, and cigarette smoke. Through the glass observation window he watched the technician run the diagnostics on the car's computer and do a once over. After thirty minutes, the tech scratched his head and glanced in Methos' direction.

The immortal smiled. Obviously he'd found something. Methos waited for the tech to join him in the waiting room.

"Your GPS is operating strangely," the man said.

Methos nodded. "Can you disengage it?"

"Well… yeah… but would you want to? It _is_ a safety feature."

"Humor me,"

The tech insisted that Methos sign a waiver and then returned to the pit.

Methos tossed the coffee into the trash. _She accessed the GPS!_ he thought. _That conniving little bitch!_ He slammed one fist into a wall, instantly regretting the action when the momentary pain of broken bones assaulted his senses. Still… it helped him focus. He shook his hand and made a fist… already feeling his healing power restore it.

Without the GPS… Sarah would have to find another way to track him. It was inevitable that she would. What confused him was why… other than just a physical attraction and a desire to revisit a former relationship. Perhaps he needed another car. Or perhaps he should change his mind and take a flight out west. Either option meant losing the convenience and speed of the **_Centaur_**. No… he'd remain with the car for now. If Sarah could hack into his GPS… then she'd be able to know if he bought an airline ticket or rented a car. Methos had a feeling her act of the evening before was exactly that… an act.

Idly he wondered if Cassandra had ever mentioned him to Sarah. When he'd studied Sarah's file in the nineties… there was no mention of her crossing paths with the psychic in decades and Cassandra had not known he was alive until later. He'd have to check with Jayne about any further meetings… or perhaps he'd just contact Cassandra herself.

After settling onto a chair, he pulled his PPC out and tapped out a message with the stylus… firing off an email to her… and bcc: to MacLeod. He wanted the Highlander aware of things. After all, Methos smiled, Duncan MacLeod was the titular clan leader of the immortals these days. His friendships with other immortals crossed all lines, and his noble character was attempting to forge an immortal community of sorts from the remains of Henry Rawlins' experiments.

Once done, Methos settled back and closed his eyes, to watch his children at play… through Eleanor's green eyes.

-----

Sarah snarled as the locator information blinked out on her car computer. "He found it!" Angrily she tapped her long nails against the steering wheel. Thank goodness… she still had the back-up plan.

Swiftly she accessed the satellite surveillance program and painted the **_Centaur_** as a target. Sarah had worked in a government think tank for a few decades and had been hands on for many of the new covert surveillance projects. She used them to find her targets and to avoid challenges.

Since running into Benjamin Adams… or whoever the hell he really was… last night… quite by accident… and being rejected by him… she'd been busy backtracking his movements and studying data concerning "Adam Pierson", the name he'd used at the hotel. Yesterday, he'd also purchased three tickets on the high altitude flight to Athens, Greece for Ellen Pierson, and two children.

Sarah studied the security photos of the woman and the two children as they'd checked in at the airport. "Children?" she said aloud. "Are they hers? Are you two playing at a family? If so… why is she leaving? Why are you traveling with a female friend?" Sarah was presented with a mystery. And she loved mysteries. She always had.

The _**Centaur** _pulled out of the service station and returned to the hotel.

Sarah noted it… and then began to check through her data files for just who was in the greater Chicago area that she could use.

-----


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven  
**Florence, Italy:**

Thrusting a few things into his overnight bag, Duncan closed his ears to Amanda's protestations.

"You do know this isn't a good idea. Remember the last time?"

Duncan sighed. "It can't be helped. As I said… I want to meet with Joe, Amy and Burt… and I might as well check on Alisaunne while I'm there. I'll be gone maybe a week."

"Then I'm going with you."

"Not that I wouldn't appreciate it, Amanda, but why?" Duncan closed his bag and turned to grin at her. His dark eyes sparkled in amusement at her pacing.

"Why? Every time you see that girl something happens!"

The grin left Duncan's face. "Nothing has happened. Nothing will happen. Besides… last time… it wasn't me she was trying to seduce."

"Only because you weren't alone. I'm going and that's all there is to it. Either we are together in this… or we're not." She pulled several outfits from her closet and tossed them on the bed, angrily pulling the hangers out.

Duncan smiled thoughtfully.

Amanda, noticing his faraway look, queried him. "What?"

"You sound like Tessa. She said something similar once."

Amanda paused momentarily; then continued removing the hangers. "And what happened when she said that," she asked quietly. One of the things Methos and Eleanor had explained to her was the importance of understanding and accepting Duncan's other loves if they were ever to be more to one another than just occasional lovers.

Duncan pulled another, slightly larger bag from the closet. "She was right. If we are together… then we're together."

Amanda grinned happily as she packed.

-----

They were in Paris within four hours and ensconced at the Meyers' household in the visitor bungalow at the rear of the garden.

Joe leaned on the arm of his chair and grinned as he listened to their on-going argument. He shook his head and wondered if the teasing went on all the time. Because of his "special" relationship with Mac and Amanda… he was their "Watcher Emeritus". In other words… he kept in touch… they shared things with him… and he wrote up "official" entries for the Chronicle. Other than that… Mac's and Amanda's Watchers stayed at a distance unless either of them met up with a challenge.

Mac had met with five challenges in the last twelve years, while Amanda had met with one. Joe had not been there to see them… but each of the immortals had called him the next day with the information. While the official reports were the when, where and who… Joe's often contained the why… and the history.

"You know…" Joe finally managed to insert during a long pause. "You two have argued about some of this stuff for as long as I've known you."

Amanda crossed her arms over her chest and regarded the Watcher with a smirk. "Longer."

Mac reached over and pulled her into his arms. "And making up is so much fun."

Joe snorted. "On that note… maybe I'd better skedaddle for a bit and give you old folks some privacy." With a wink and a grin, he hit the control pad and his chair turned to scoot off through the garden. He heard the bungalow door close behind him. They'd built the bungalow out here as those two were often rather… loud… and Amy thought it might be better for them to have some privacy. Joe chuckled… not to mention the twins' curiosity about them when they were younger.

Later at dinner, the conversation was free and easy. There was no talk of why they were here. Much of it centered around the twins' activities and their schoolwork. It was only after they'd retired for the evening… that the adults gathered closely together to discuss the real reasons for the visit.

"You know those kids are bright," Amanda said. "I'd bet they know more about what's going on than you think they do."

"Guessing and knowing are two different things," Burt replied. He held out the decanter and Amanda nodded. "We'll tell them eventually about you all and about what we do… but not until they're older… at least out of school."

"And they don't listen at the door?" smirked Duncan as he settled back into a settee and reached for the offered drink.

"Trust me," Amy laughed. "If I doubted for one moment that Dawson wasn't on the phone with Celeste or that Abby didn't have her nose in a book… I'd postpone this discussion."

"So," Joe shifted in his chair… cricking his neck, "what more do you think we know?"

Duncan sat forward, holding the glass between his hands. "Have there been any additional sightings? Has he met with anyone? Is Methos searching?"

Amy laughed. "No! No! And yes! Anything else?"

"Look," Joe added. "Other than the fact that all of us realized that was Derrick in that photo… most of the Watchers are oblivious to his being one of you. After all… most still subscribe to 1985 being the date of the last newborn immortal. And except for Derrick… that does seem to be holding true."

"So no one in Watchers except you three really know who he is?"

"Well… several received the memo and fax as I did… but evidently it was filed away as possibly a sighting of an immortal we'd lost track of. Rather than send someone looking for him, the West Coast Watchers have simply been told to keep an eye out for a male immortal interacting with one of theirs. So far… nothing else has been reported."

Mac sat back, letting Amanda snuggle into his side. He draped an arm about her shoulders and hugged her. "That's strange." He paused. "Methos hasn't had any luck?"

Joe shook his head. "He's on the road. He wanted to take that new car of his out and really see what she could do. His Watcher is with him. She says they detoured to Chicago to avoid a confrontation with one of his old friends."

Duncan suddenly looked serious. "Anyone I should know about?"

Amy shook her head. "An old flame, evidently. There is nothing in her file to indicate she's any kind of a threat. We didn't even know they knew one another. We're trying to put the pieces together now."

Duncan hugged Amanda tighter as he murmured. "I wonder what Eleanor thinks of her?"

-----

**Niebos:**

Eleanor studied the digital readout of Kenny's chart on the PDA and then reached forward to brush his blonde hair out of his eyes. "You're about due for a haircut again."

"I swear," Grace said from behind her. "His hair seems to grow at twice the rate some of the others'.

"He's a boy," Eleanor added, cupping her hand on his chin and staring thoughtfully into his blank eyes. She sighed and dropped her hand as she continued to study his chart. "There are some aberrations in his EEG."

"I saw those. But there have been no other signs that he or any of the others will return." Grace slowly shifted one foot back and forth as she waited for Eleanor to move on. She'd asked Eleanor to look at the data with fresh eyes… she always asked her… but it still bothered her a bit that sometimes the small dark-haired immortal could just sense things about the patients… long before the data supported it. Eleanor had been the first to sense that Carl was finally re-awakening five years ago.

"Still… it might be wise to keep a close eye on him for a while." Eleanor stood and handed the PDA to Grace. "That's everyone isn't it?"

Grace nodded. She glanced up and down the ward… her twenty patients lay like the dead… except she could sense them… immortal… yet not really here… still lost in the dream-state they'd been forced to endure. Part of their quickening had been drained into the mortals… and when the mortals had been killed… the quickening had returned to the immortals… at least that is what they thought had happened. But whatever spark of life that made them aware seemed to have been destroyed… or at least short-circuited. They lived… but they failed to revive. Grace sighed. "I just wish I knew what to do."

Carl's slow voice could be heard on the terrace as he attempted to sound out words.

Eleanor stared at him. "Carl is the hope that all of them might eventually come back."

"I know," Grace agreed. She laid one hand on her swelling abdomen as she regarded John. As they were unbonded… she did not know his thoughts… but she knew that he was focused on Carl… and repaying the debt he thought he owed the other immortal. He'd killed Carl within the dream-state… and he felt responsible that the man's mind and memories had been compromised somehow. Grace had thought a child important for several reasons. One: a child by her would be proof that it was possible for other immortals. Two: she wanted a child… John's child. She knew that they didn't really know one another well enough to be bonded, but a child might help on that path. Besides… once the truth of children was revealed to other immortals… this child would prove that it could be done without the bonding.

She'd spoken to Phillip, Methos, Eleanor, and the others and received their blessing. Once she had John's agreement and had found the third… they'd been given the instructions and had moved forward with their plans.

Beside her, as if in understanding, Eleanor leaned in with a hug and laid her hand on Grace's… allowing a small burst of energy to sustain her friend. "I think she wants one of her dads for a long touch," she winked.

Grace nodded.

John glanced up at her with a smile but then returned his attention to Carl. Grace sighed. "I need to go find Greg."

-----

Behind them… Kenny's eyes focused momentarily… aware of the two immortals standing before him. Then his eyes glazed over once more. It was happening more frequently… this sudden shifting from the well in which he was trapped to this other room where he could sense other immortals nearby. So far… Kenny had no idea which of the two worlds was the real one. He circled about the deep well and stared up at the passing clouds… the clouds tinged pink like cotton candy… in a sky far too blue and faraway.

-----

**Southern Colorado:**

Tracy Morgan still had no clear idea as to what had actually happened. She was confronted by information that failed to clearly make sense.

A week ago she'd been following her assignment, Caspar Wingate, at a discreet distance when she'd blown a tire. Changing it had taken maybe half an hour in the gathering gloom of evening. By the time she'd hit the road again… she'd lost him. He'd turned off somewhere or gone somewhere that she hadn't thought of.

Tracy had shrugged, filed her missing immortal report and put out an APB on Wingate's car, a late-model **_Toyota Camry_**… red. The car had turned up finally… in a used car lot. Fearfully Tracy had come to check it out.

After ascertaining that the car was indeed Wingate's, Tracy went to interview the manager, and show him Wingate's photo.

"Yes'm… that's him… that's the feller that sold me the **_Camry_**." The manager, a hulking fellow with long gray hair tied in a ponytail and a long unkempt beard seemed to enjoy towering over her and standing just a tad too close… within her personal space. But as Tracy wanted information, she smiled pleasantly and continued with her questions.

"You're certain? Was he alone?"

The manager leaned over to one side and hawked and spit, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. "Nope… there was another feller with him."

"Did you get a look at him? Can you give me a description?"

"Nope. He stayed in his car… a late nineties **_Taurus_**. Them things had good engines. Now I told this feller if'n he'd wait around a few days… I could fix the **_Camry_**. He seemed plenty peeved that his new car had quit on him while his friend's old one was still goin' strong. He said that it didn't seem fair!"

"But he didn't wait?"

"Nope! He jest took the money and left." Graybeard stepped even closer.

Tracy'd had enough. She grabbed one of his ham-fisted hands and jerked it around to his back as she turned him and slammed him against the outside wall of the office. She heard some of the vinyl siding crack and gave thanks for the martial arts courses now included as part of field duty. "_A Watcher's first duty is to survive! If a Watcher doesn't survive… we lose data!_" her instructor had yelled.

Shoving his arm up ever higher, Tracy asked again. "And he left with his friend in the **_Taurus_**. What color?"

"The car? Owwww! That hurts! Beige… or dirty white. It was kinda beat-up and rusty lookin'."

"Did you get a license plate number?"

"No!"

Tracy pulled two twenties from a pocket and shoved them into Graybeard's T-shirt pocket. She released his arm and back away. He turned, rubbing his arm thoughtfully as he gazed at her. Then he pulled the money out… looked at it and grinned as he stuffed it into his front jeans pocket. "Nice doin' bizness wit' you, lady." He tilted his hips forward and back provocatively while he grinned.

Tracy stomped angrily back to her car. Wingate was still alive… but it would take some real detective work to find him now. She sat for a minute trying to decide the best course of action. Finally she started the ignition and headed for a motel. She needed to think this through… but likely… she'd just have to wait until Wingate was sighted by someone. He was a headhunter… and Tracy doubted it would be too long before he turned up again.

-----

**Seacouver, WA:**

Mona Taylor nearly gagged as she pulled on the dirty old coat that was part of her "costume." She tucked her hair under the wig and pulled on the battered hat. Glancing in the mirror of her car… an old one… safely parked several blocks away… she made certain she looked disgusting and wild-eyed, then got out and trudged the three blocks to the **_Helping Hand Mission_**. She came in daily at dinnertime to check on her immortals… Michelle Webster and David Keogh. Technically… she was just Michelle's Watcher… but David's had come down with food poisoning last week and rather than introduce someone else into this closed little society that frequented the mission, she was watching both of them.

Not that they ever really did anything. She doubted either one had met a challenge of any sort in the last four years. They didn't really seem to hang out in the areas that immortals frequented. Mona had thought she'd get to go to cocktail parties or nightclubs when she got her first assignment. She'd never dreamed it would be someone who helped run a mission for the poor.

Mona pulled open the door and sighed as she saw the line. Good thing she wasn't really hungry… although the food here was pretty good… or at least filling. She slumped over and looked about the hall… mentally ticking off all the familiar faces in their regular spots. Finally she was at the table.

"Hello Mona," Michelle smiled at her warmly and checked off her name. She handed the woman a card. "We have grilled cheese today."

Mona hmmphed… took the card and moved over to the food line. Through the access window to the kitchen she could see Keogh. Well, they were both here… now all she had to do was eat and leave. A blonde young woman she'd not seen before filled her plate.

"You're new!" Mona spat out.

"Aye… " the woman smiled. "Call me Connie."

Mona nodded, gathered her filled plate and had a seat. She stared at the **_Jell-O_** and fruit, the grilled cheese, and the tomato wedge. Gingerly she picked up the sandwich and took a bite… chewing thoughtfully.

A man sat down across from her. Mona glanced up and for a moment was transfixed by eyes so blue that she was startled. He smiled. "Are you happy in your work Mona?"

Mona swallowed her bite of food and nodded.

"It pays well?" He reached out and clasped one of her slender hands in one of his larger ones. He straightened her long fingers gently and ran his thumb over her nails.

Mona stared at her clean hand with its professional French manicure. Slowly she balled her hand and pulled it back. Then she looked once more into the man's eyes.

"Does this job make you happy?"

"No," she said truthfully.

"Then why continue? Shouldn't you find something to do that fills your heart with joy?"

Mona nodded.

The man smiled, rose and moved on. Mona sat for a minute. "_I've been made_," she thought. She glanced guiltily towards Michelle who saw her and smiled. Mona left… tossing her still-filled plate of food into the trash on her way out. When she reached the car… she tore off the hated coat and threw it onto the curb. Flinging the hat and wig with it. Climbing into the car… she took a deep breath and mentally began composing her request for transfer.

-----


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve  
****Seacouver, WA, one week later:**

Amber had settled into the life they were living here. While being under one roof with four other immortals besides Derrick bothered her a great deal… especially in a room that had no lock… she was managing.

Each night she shoved a heavy bureau against the door.

Derrick would laugh. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

"Humor me," she snapped.

The upstairs of the mission was well laid out. On the second floor was a small ward for women. The rest of the floor had six private rooms for families. Two bathrooms were on the floor. Men on one end… women on the other.

On the third floor… the men's ward was on the other end of the hall… but the rest was the same. Wingate and Burke were in the ward on the third floor. Michelle and David were in the room next to the stairs. Amber and Derrick were next to the women's ward.

"We are as safe here as anywhere," Derrick laughed, stretching out on the bed.

Amber crawled in beside him. _Strange_, she thought, _that in so short a time, I can't imagine life without him_. She snuggled up next to him and slept… deeply… soundly… contentedly.

-----

In the dining room the following morning as she was setting up her serving station she happened to glance up and see Derrick and Michelle talking. Michelle suddenly rose and cast her arms about Derrick's neck and kissed him on the lips. Amber felt like someone had just knifed her.

Derrick looked in Amber's direction and smiled as Michelle happily scooted off to the kitchen to tell David something.

Amber shook her head. She closed her eyes and sensed Derrick approach.

"You're upset?" he said gently. "Why?"

Amber raised her hands and backed away. "Just leave me be for a while."

Derrick nodded and walked away to talk to some men who'd arrived early for meals. One of them carried a chess set under his arm and was setting it up on one of the tables. Amber heard easy laughter.

Michelle came up beside her. "That guy of yours is a real marvel."

"Do tell."

"I've been here four years. I have problems because I still look like a teenager even though I'm not one… not really."

Amber nodded. "Ya have to move on so often. Aye… been there, done that more often than I like to admit."

"I've cut my hair, I've bought glasses, I've changed the style of clothes I wear… nothing lasts for long."

"_We_ last."

"Well… yeah." Michelle waved a hand in the air. "Anyway. David's been wanting to move on. You see… I was always the gadfly… wanting to keep moving. Then a few years ago… I wanted something stable in my life. I came back here after my parents had died… and wanted to make them proud of me. I wanted to make a difference here. David and I had been friends for years… but after Switzerland… after what happened there…" Michelle shuddered slightly. "Anyway we hooked up soon after that. We've been trying to decide what to do next."

"And ya asked Derrick."

"Yeah. He listened to me rattle on for a while and then I suddenly knew what I wanted to do. David's been wanting to open a store someplace where we could sell the furniture he makes. He really misses that… But what should I do about this place?"

"So what did ya decide?" Amber said leaning back against the table, her arms folded and a smile now playing across her lips.

"This place has potential! And it would have even more if some of the others did more of the actual day-to-day work. With money from the store… we could set up a trust fund for this place to keep it operating. And … we could expand. We could help more people. I realized that I don't need to be here all the time. I can oversee things from elsewhere. Besides, David's skills are wasted in the kitchen."

"Aye… but he makes a great mulligan stew."

Michelle laughed and then headed to her desk as the first of their patrons began arriving for the noon meal.

-----

After clean-up Amber sought out Derrick. He'd gone outside and was staring at the horizon. "I'm sorry," she said softly as she slipped her hand into one of his.

He smiled at her. "For what?"

"For bein' jealous when Michelle kissed ya."

"Oh… that." He leaned against an old car and wrapped one long arm about her as he sighed contentedly. "I want to go somewhere. Will you go with me?"

Amber nodded. For some strange reason she was willing to follow him wherever he went.

He'd driven the jet cycle to a cemetery and pushed it quietly along the paths until he found the spot he was looking for. Amber stood by the spot while he crossed to a large stone marker and crouched. Idly he wiped his hand across the carvings, brushing away the detritus of nature. He'd stopped earlier and picked up some flowers. Some he lay on the grave. After a moment he crossed to another area and crouched by a marker topped by a cherub. This time he seemed to talk to whoever was buried there. He laid another flower on the grave and rose to continue on.

At his sixth stop... he motioned to Amber to join him. The marker had a chess pieces mounted on a concrete board. Derrick clasped her fingers. "My friend George Layton. He and I played chess together."

"Wha' happened to all these people?"

"Someone wanted me dead when I was a boy. All these people died one day instead of me. All around me… mortals died… that I would live."

"Is that when ya met Ellie?"

"No… she'd left me here to be safe. But I wasn't safe. She and the others came to protect me… but they couldn't protect everyone. My foster parents, my teacher, my schoolmates, my friend…" he gestured at George's marker… "all died because of me."

"Surely not."

Derrick shrugged. "Well… Duncan said it was because someone wanted him dead… but I think I knew even then… I was the real target… even if no one knew it. Death kept seeking me." He chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Ellie's husband once used the name Death. Strange to think he saved my life. It was if he… too… had stood as I stood… and watched Death approach. Someone had once saved him… and that day he saved me. He threw himself in the path of the bullets. I think it was his doing that, that made Ellie love him again."

"But he was immortal!"

Derrick nodded. "But I didn't know it at the time. I just thought he was Superman." He grinned. "You know… that the bullets bounced off?"

Amber nodded. She understood the reference, likely better than he did.

The shafts of light were turning golden as the sun dropped to the horizon. Shadows had begun to lengthen their violet reach across the grounds.

"We better get back," Derrick said as he led the way back to the cycle.

That night as they made love, Amber was struck again by how firm Derrick felt all over… as if made of iron… or steel. _Superman_, she thought. _Able to withstand bullets_. Somehow, it was a comforting thought.

-----

**San Diego, CA:**

The journey west had taken longer than Methos had planned. His detour to Chicago… the finding of the hacking of his GPS on the **_Centaur_**… and his ingrained sense of paranoia… had all contributed to make him even more suspicious and careful than he already was.

He'd refrained from using the jet engine except when necessary… and he'd meandered their journey west… his eye ever on California.

Jayne said little… accepting his precautions as normal. He was the most ancient of the living immortals… and his longevity was due in part to his precautions and paranoia. As he'd once told Duncan MacLeod, "_Live, grow stronger, fight another day_," so, too, he was taking his own advice. Jayne knew he was thinking of Eleanor and the children… as much as his own safety. Whoever this immortal was that he was searching for… had to be important indeed.

When they'd reached the roadside where a tanker truck had gone off the road and exploded a few weeks before, while Methos studied the road… and peered vacantly into the distance… Jayne checked the news stories about the incident. Staring at the license photo of the man who'd apparently died and then whose body had vanished… Jayne tried to cross-reference with Watcher files. It was at that point that she noted something truly suspicious. The files were locked down. Remote access to them was to be allowed only with permission from area coordinators. A phone call to the regional director led Jayne nowhere.

"So sorry. Work is evidently being done on the system. Upgrades or something. If you need information on someone… give me a name and I will see what I can do," Kim Dol Sung had explained.

But Jayne had no name. Methos had said little to nothing about this search. She shut down her PPC and wandered over to him.

"His bike was here." Methos was crouched by the side of the road, letting his fingers trail through the gravel. "The police file indicates it was gone after he vanished." The ancient rose and looked up and down the road, thinking aloud. "He woke up… made his getaway into the darkness… climbed up here to retrieve the bike… and then went… where?"

Glancing in both directions he nodded with a smile. "He'd know enough to realize what had happened… and make an escape." Facing west, Methos smiled. "That way… back the way he'd come… to the nearest motel."

Jayne's brows knotted in confusion. "You talk like he was new. Surely he can't be."

Methos grunted non-committedly and strode toward the **_Centaur_**. "Let's go," he said and started the ignition. Jayne climbed in quickly fastening her belt. She had a feeling that now that they were here… the slow pace of their journey was over.

Twenty minutes later, Methos pulled into the crumbling parking lot of a dilapidated motel. "Perfect," he said under his breath.

Jayne stared around and wondered why?

"Wait here," he said as he climbed out.

Jayne opened a door and waited… feeling the heat of the day rise about her.

Inside the office Methos offered asked the desk clerk about recent guests. He slid a $100 bill onto the counter.

The desk clerk glanced around and then swatted the bill with his fly swatter… pulling the bill off into his hand and pocketing it. "Can't complain. We get a few bikers and transients."

"How about this gentleman?" Methos slid an enlarged copy of Derrick's license photo onto the counter.

The clerk looked at it and shrugged. "Can't help you."

"Look again." This time Methos lay an altered photo minus the long hair and beard beside the first one. Another $100 bill peeked out from beneath it.

The clerk leaned over it thoughtfully and then raised one eyebrow as he met Methos' gaze. "You know… this looks like a guy who stayed one night. I didn't check him in… but he stepped in to leave the key when he left. The night guy told me he looked all beat up when he checked in… but he looked fine to me."

Methos nodded. "Which way did he go?"

The clerk scratched at the stubble of his chin and then slapped his flyswatter onto the picture with a loud snap. Once more he pulled it back and pocketed the money. "East. He headed east."

Methos collected the two photos and nodded his thanks. As he exited the office into the heat… he wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to figure what was east of here that would interest Derrick. Why that direction?

Scotland, 2004 

The boy looked up from the book he was studying, his blue eyes wide with wonder. "How big is it, Adam?" he asked Methos.

In the background Methos could hear Eleanor humming as she kneaded bread dough. Like as not, it would be dry, tough, and too salty… but he'd eat it… they both would… at least a little of it.

"It's a big hole in the ground. I've been there several times over the centuries." He thought momentarily of the last time… with Alexa… and smiled. That had been one of his better visits to the Grand Canyon.

"I wish we'd seen it when we were traveling," Derrick had said as he stared at the photographs. "I bet it's like the ocean… you have to see it to truly get the scale of it."

Eleanor had wiped her hands of dough and settled on the arm of Methos' chair. She gave him a warm smile and kissed his hair as she placed an arm about his shoulders. In their time together… their thoughts were more and more shared unless they managed to build the wall. She'd picked up on his thoughts of Alexa and had offered comfort.

"Our paths never took us that far south," she'd murmured as she leaned over to slightly turn the book and gaze at the photograph.

"Have you seen it, Ellie?" the boy had asked.

"Once… long ago," one hand rubbed up and down Methos' back.

Methos grinned. Even now he could sense her agreement. Derrick would take the opportunity to see the Grand Canyon. His mind made up, he climbed into the car and pulled out.

"Now where?" asked Jayne.

"The Grand Canyon."

Jayne re-buckled her belt as the **_Centaur_** sped along the highway. "Great… I've never seen it." She laughed. "My father said if I stuck to you like glue I'd see amazing sights."

Methos grinned. "It's just a hole in the ground. But it _is_… an amazing hole." At the back of his mind… he thought he heard Eleanor laugh.

-----

Although she'd lost her quarry several times in the past few days, Sarah Manning had not panicked. She'd simply utilized her government passwords and linked into systems so that she found him again. Shaking her head she'd noted Ben's or Adam's new direction and his wandering. "He knows," she chuckled. "He just doesn't know for certain it's me… or why."

Idly at such times… she pulled up the airport surveillance photos of Ellen Pierson and her children. Staring at them intently… noting that none of the shots clearly showed the young woman's face… nor the faces of the children… she began to wonder what it was that Ben saw in her… that had made him refrain from sleeping with Sarah again. After all… it wasn't that Sarah wanted his head… or even him as a permanent part of her life… but still… they were immortals… they were not bound by mortal morals.

The latest satellite data indicated he'd turned east again. Sarah shook her head. "What _are_ you looking for?"

-----

**_Chateau _de Valicourt:**

Gina rubbed the glass perfume stopper against her neck. The sent of lilies surrounded her and she smiled… her mind momentarily on their wedding anniversary in 1896. They'd filled the _chateau_ with them. Every room had been filled with their scent.

Unlike the anniversary of 1796, which had nearly been interrupted by the revolution… their two hundredth had been a relatively quiet affair. For a moment Gina could hear the music and sense all their guests around them. She could hear the spoon on the glass as Fitzcairn had risen from the banquet table to propose a toast. Gina sighed. She still missed Fitz. Dear Fitz! He'd been a good friend… to all of them.

"Yes… he was."

From behind her Robert's voice agreed with her thoughts. He'd been especially attentive since their new watcher had arrived… as if to prove to her that she was truly the love of his life. Gina's gaze met Robert's in the mirror. She smiled. Pierson was wrong… the de Valicourt's love and commitment to one another was enough. She smiled… her mind already filled with thoughts of the long night ahead.

-----


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen  
****Seacouver, WA:**

Rain pelted the window and lightning flashed in the distance. Amber pushed the bureau against the door… noting that Derrick was staring into the darkness… apparently unaware of her. Likely he was still upset.

It had begun innocently enough. As they'd finished up with the after-dinner crowd… Derrick moving among the transients and talking with them… Amber had been struck by the laughter about the place.

In the kitchen, she could hear Wingate telling jokes while washing dishes… while David was taking inventory of food supplies. Michelle was working on a shopping list. There was an easy camaraderie about the three of them.

In the hall… Burke had been pushing the broom about… and dancing with it occasionally… to the glee of the children. She could hear him sing out occasionally, "Do you love me? Do you love? Now… that I… can dance." Amber had joined in the laughter.

Most of the people who were still here at this time of night… were the ones who would spend the night. Derrick had waved goodbye to his chess buddies as they'd left and Amber had settled in next to him. "You have the gift of gab about ya."

He'd eyed her quizzically.

"Ya make people feel good about themselves. It's like ya were a priest."

The effect of her tease was unexpected.

Derrick had sobered… his eyes flitting back and forth as he held his breath. Then he shook his head… rose and had stomped off.

He'd returned to their room after a long walk in the night while she'd been in the shower. And in all the time since she'd entered, he'd stared out at the rain.

Amber shook her head. Crossing to his side, she laid one hand lightly on his damp arm. Absently he clasped her hand with his other hand and kissed it. He continued to stare out at the rain.

"What was wrong with what I said earlier? I didn't say ya were a priest… only that yar words to people are like ones a priest would say to give them comfort. Besides…" she'd slid both arms about him… feeling the rain damp of him and drinking in his musky smell. "I've known many a priest… and believe me… Ya're no priest."

Derrick chuckled. "Did you ever know Darius?"

Amber rolled her eyes. "I'd heard of him. He was a general who gave up the sword for the cloth. But I never met him." She tilted her head with a grin. "He died decades ago… Likely before ya were ever born."

Derrick nodded. "Yes… before I was born." She heard an odd tone in his voice.

"What do ya mean?"

He turned his back to the window and pulled her into an embrace. "It's hard to explain. When I was a boy… when I met people he'd known… or went to churches… I seemed to know things without being told."

"Ya're daft!" Amber laughed lifting her head from his chest and pulling back. "Ya're makin' that up."

"No." He reached out and pulled her close once more. "I'm not. I think I inherited some of his memories somehow. But… I don't really have them anymore. I still recall the people I met that he knew… and some of the things he told them… but I'm not him… I'm not." His voice trembled softly.

Amber heard an insistent denial in his tone. She wondered if he were trying to convince her or himself.

"Course not," she said lightly and tilted her face upwards. "Ya're you… and I like ya just as ya are."

Derrick kissed her forehead and pulled her close once more. But his mind was obviously still far away… on the people and events of his past.

Amber decided to let him be. "I'm off to bed." She pulled back and he let her go. As she turned out the light and climbed into bed… she could see him staring out into the darkness and the rain once more.

-----

He was gone by the time Amber awoke the next morning. She noted the bureau slid back to its proper place. Assuming he was downstairs, she'd dressed and tripped down to begin the preparations for the noon meal. They seldom served a real breakfast here… although there was coffee and donated pastries from a nearby bakery for the adults… and cereal with milk for the children who'd stayed the night.

Derrick was nowhere to be seen.

"Have ya seen Derrick?" Amber asked Michelle… but the other immortal shook her head. Amber stepped out into the still cloudy morning. Already she could feel the heat rising… and the humidity as pools of water began to evaporate. It would be another unusually hot and humid day for this part of the country.

His jet cycle was gone.

Amber stared about… suddenly fearful as to where he'd gone… Would he back? Why had he left? Did the others know? Racing back into the mission she found Wingate sipping coffee and staring intently at a day old cheese Danish.

"Did Derrick tell ya where he was headin'?" Wingate stared at her thoughtfully. Slowly he shook his head.

"He went to buy something," Burke said from behind her. "He told me it was a surprise." The red-bearded immortal nodded his head as if agreeing with himself. "Yep… said it was a surprise."

Amber looked around the mess hall with worry. "_Don't be silly!_" she tried to tell herself. "_He's young… but he does know how to defend himself._" Still… Amber felt a chill despite the heat. Michelle and David had commented that Seacouver seemed to be one of those places that immortals gathered for some reason. There had always been a number of them here… far more than in many larger cities.

"It's as if something always drew them here. Few come down to the Zone, though," David had explained shortly after they'd arrived, "but I see them about town. So far… no one's been too terribly interested in a challenge… but then… I just nod and pass by. I don't stop to talk."

But Derrick would stop to talk. If Amber knew nothing else about him… she knew that. He'd stop to talk… and there would be a challenge… and… Amber shuddered. He shouldn't be by himself. For some reason he still had this concept of immortals who lived and worked together… rather than striving to win the game. Despite everything… Amber had been unable to shake his innate belief in that. Perhaps being raised by immortals had given him a false sense of what they were truly like… and of the game. Amber feared Derrick was not long for this world.

-----

**The Grand Canyon:**

Methos shoved his hands deeply into his coat pockets and stared at the wide vista of the Canyon. Before him was one of the safety rails. Behind him… Jayne was snapping pictures with her camera. He wondered if she knew about his centuries old association with this place… and its almost mystical call to him.

With what he'd learned of the ancients via his bond with Eleanor… he wondered if this were one of the blasted places… where the old killings had gone on. In the aftermath… had the raging river waters finally eroded the land away… in an attempt to wash it clean? He shook his head. It was only a very large hole in the ground. To make more of it than it was… was ridiculous.

Looking around, he sighed. "_There's no way to know if he was here. I could spend a year interviewing people here… and learn nothing._" He sensed Eleanor's reluctant agreement. "If he came here… where would he go?"

Wind ruffled his dark hair. An eagle rose on the thermals, circled and then dove for its prey. Methos heard the keen on the wind.

"_Would he go someplace familiar?_" For a moment his mind tried to think like Derrick's might. If he'd come here and seen a place he'd always been curious about… would he go…

Methos turned with a snap and returned to the car.

"Where to, Boss?" asked Jayne.

"Just a hunch."

"Hunch?"

Methos smiled. "Ever been to Washington state?" he asked her.

"Seacouver?"

Methos nodded as he pulled out. "Seacouver."

-----

Checking into **_The Canyon Suites_**, Sarah Manning was curious as to this most recent destination on the part of Benjamin Adams. It made no sense to her. But as he was here… perhaps he and that mousy little thing accompanying him would remain a while.

Her hacking showed that he'd rented a suite here for a week. Well, it had been long enough since they'd seen one another that she felt she could surprise him again. After all, she didn't mind sharing… she never had.

Sarah surveyed her own suite, sensing that Benjamin was not in the one next door, yet. Not to worry, she thought as she laid out attire for dinner. She'd wow him this time.

-----

An hour later, she'd dawdled over a light dinner… but he'd yet to show up. Sarah decided he'd taken his friend to eat elsewhere… and while his sensing her in the suite next door was not preferable until she'd surprised him… she shrugged. Perhaps he'd knock on her door… curious as to who was there. Paying for her meal… Sarah sauntered through the hotel bar… and considered remaining there in the darkness for a while. But as she was tired… she passed on through it and entered the elevator.

Just as the doors had almost shut… a heavyset man in a cheap suit stuck his hand through the doors and entered when the doors re-opened. He mumbled apologies and Sarah noticed a fast food bag in his hands. She rolled her eyes. One thing she simply didn't care for was "fast food." It was tasteless, it was messy, and it was greasy… Sarah chuckled. In her day, food took all day to prepare and meals were an occasion. She supposed that was why she still preferred eating in better restaurants.

The man got off on the third floor. Sarah rode on up to the top floor. Immediately she knew Ben wasn't here. Sarah stood for a moment in the hall outside his door and fingered her keycard. Had he checked out? She entered her suite, flicked on the lights and tossed the keycard on the desk. Pulling out a chair she turned on her computer and began hacking into the hotel reservation system.

_Adam Pierson… suite 802… confirmed and checked in_. Sarah tapped her stylus against the side of the PPC. "Where are you?" she wondered. "Out for a late night with your little friend?" The suite had two bedrooms… the first time he'd rented a suite rather than two separate rooms. Sarah had assumed he'd just wanted convenience… or privacy. She turned off the lights and sat in the dark for several hours before finally crawling onto the bed in one of the rooms and falling asleep.

-----

**Paris:**

Duncan stood outside the building that hid the sacred grove. From here, he had no sense of Alisaunne… but then he'd never sensed immortals in there… not in all the years he'd ever wandered the _Rue St. Jacques_ in his visits to **_St. Julien le Pauvre_**.

Amanda clasped his hand tightly.

"You're certain you want to do this?" she asked, as if hoping that he'd change his mind.

"I promised Methos and Ellie I'd check on her whenever I was in Paris. She's _my_ student."

"But she's their child," Amanda insisted.

Duncan shook his head. "Maybe… but I think she responds better to me than to either of them. She knows me. They are just strangers who happen to be her parents. Despite all their best intentions… that hasn't changed."

Together they entered the covered archway and approached the wrought iron gate. Duncan fingered the key Ellie had given him a few years ago… not long after that last time here… with Methos. He offered Amanda a wink and a smile as he unlocked the gate and swung it open. Once more clasping her hand… they entered the magical quiet of the sacred grove. He let the gate close behind him and listened for the _click_ of the latch to be certain the gate had re-locked. Satisfied, he pocketed the key once more.

"Alisaunne?" he called out.

There was no answer.

"Perhaps she's out?" suggested Amanda.

"Perhaps. Or maybe below the church." **_St. Julien_** was closed to the public these days. The explosion years ago that had given Alisaunne the Ancient Immortal's quickening had left it in bad shape. The local authorities considered the Twelfth Century building hazardous. Evidently the ruling body of the Catholic Church in France was still undecided as to the old church's future. Duncan tried to keep abreast of things with it. If the church were sold, as sometimes happened to old properties that were no longer needed, he wanted to be in a position to make the winning bid to purchase it. The secrets below the building had to be protected!

"Wait upstairs for me," Duncan suggested as he crossed to the secret door that led into the sewers.

"I am not leaving you alone with her," Amanda replied.

Duncan nodded and felt along the door. "Locked. And on this side." He looked about. "Maybe she's out? We can try her rooms over on _Rue Monge_."

"If you like." Amanda's voice had a brittle tone.

"Jealousy does not become you," Duncan chided as they left.

"Sorry… I just keep seeing her at her worst these days." Amanda's lip protruded slightly. Alisaunne made her uneasy and Duncan knew it. If Ian had survived, perhaps she wouldn't have been so confused and lost. But Ian _was_ dead, and the girl had nothing else besides her obsessive research into the clues Darius had left behind. True she had the Ancient's power, but his memories were not a clear part of her mind. They were evidently much the way Darius' memories had once been a part of Derrick… unclear thoughts brought into focus for brief moments when they seemed to apply.

Whatever the Ancient and Darius had done at the time of his death… the two young people… had borne the brunt and weight of it. Neither of them was quite like any of the others. Alisaunne's differences were thought to have been because she was born and not found… and Derrick's because he recalled Darius' memories too early in his life. But it was evidently much more. Laws had been broken. Alisaunne had developed and been born in days not months… and as for Derrick? Duncan shook his head. He was an immortal created in the old way… whatever that was… and created because Darius had evidently felt something was unfinished, and the Ancients had agreed.

"Where are you?" Duncan whispered.

"Alisaunne?" Amanda replied, leaning close to him as they walked along the rue.

Duncan smiled. "No. Actually I was wondering about Derrick."

"Methos will find him," assured Amanda.

"I hope so," Duncan murmured. His last message from Methos had not been encouraging. "On way to Seacouver. No other clues." Evidently Ellie had agreed with Methos' reasoning. "Someplace safe. Someplace familiar." Trouble was, Duncan couldn't think of anyplace in the Washington city that had been safe for that boy during the brief time he'd lived there.

Upon reaching the _Rue Monge_… both Duncan and Amanda had felt an immortal presence. They glanced at one another and nodded. It had to be Alisaunne. Entering the building where she had rooms, Duncan led the way up the four flights of stairs… the presence growing stronger. Outside her door he paused. She… or someone was definitely inside. He fingered his _katana_ beneath his leather jacket, making certain it was at hand and noted Amanda doing the same for her broadsword.

He knocked. "Alisaunne? It's Duncan," he called out, hoping she'd hear him… and that no one else would. He glanced up and down the empty hallway. There were four sets of rooms on each floor. He wasn't certain if the others on the top floor were currently occupied.

The door slowly opened and Duncan gasped.

A hollow-eyed and thin Alisaunne stared at him and then turned back into her room, leaving the door open.

Duncan's nose wrinkled at the smell of the place. Entering carefully, he quickly surveyed the papers strewn on the floor; the dirty dishes stacked almost everywhere, and a general disarray that spoke of slovenly living.

"Ali? Are you all right," Duncan asked again as he moved further into the rooms. His voice showed his concern. This was not the young woman he knew.

Alisaunne was crouched on the floor in the midst of the papers. She rocked back and forth as she crouched, her dirty fingers tapping her lips as she mumbled. On the papers were the strange writings of the cavern. She hit the side of her head and mumbled, "No… no… no… That's not right." She shuffled the papers.

Duncan circled around her, aware that Amanda was gazing about the place in confusion. He crouched next to Alisaunne and carefully reached to move one greasy lock from her face. "Ali?" he said again.

The girl's gray eyes looked at him without comprehension and then focused once more on her scribblings.

"Duncan… she needs help," offered Amanda softly and crouched next to the young woman. "Sweetie… you come with me. Come on now. It's all right."

Her voice seemed to make an impact where Duncan's had failed to do so. Alisaunne nodded and let Amanda pull her to her feet and lead her into the bath. "I'm going to help her, Duncan. See what you can do in here." With that… they disappeared into the bathroom and soon Duncan heard running water and saw steam from under the wood door.

The Highlander sighed and decided to attack the dirty dishes first. By the time he'd finished and begun picking up clothes and righting furniture… he was still hesitant about moving the sheets of paper… the bathroom door opened and Amanda led Alisaunne into the main room. Cooing into her ear… she settled the girl into a kitchen chair and then began to comb her wet hair.

Alisaunne's expression was blank… as if she were a puppet to be moved and positioned. Duncan was worried.

"I'm tired," the young woman finally said.

"Of course you are," Amanda agreed and led her into the bedroom to settle her on the unmade bed and pulled the covers up over her. She continued to speak softly to Alisaunne for some time.

Meanwhile Duncan continued the clean-up and trash and garbage disposal. An hour later… things looked pretty good and Amanda had tiptoed silently out of Alisaunne's bedroom.

"I've seen people in a fugue state before. This is similar. She's been so focused on those papers that she's lost all track of reality."

Duncan nodded and offered her some coffee he'd made. Amanda gratefully accepted it as she sat heavily in a chair.

"I take it this wasn't like any other time you've seen her?" Amanda murmured as she sipped the coffee. Unlike Duncan, she'd never visited the girl over the years for several reasons. One was her discomfort around Cassandra who evidently still held a fascination for Duncan. He'd stare at her with baited breath.

Methos and Eleanor had evidently made their peace with the psychic and had encouraged her to spend time with Alisaunne over the years in an attempt to help her understand the whirling images in her mind… and the divided nature of her being.

Another reason was the stories she'd heard about the girl… both as night stalking killer and as seductress. Amanda wasn't certain she wouldn't have shot the girl and taken her head if she'd been with MacLeod or Methos when Alisaunne had tried to bed them. Amanda shivered.

"Cold?"

"No… just worried. I was thinking about the last time you were here."

"I've told you Amanda. Nothing happened. Nothing will happen."

But Amanda wasn't so sure.

-----


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen  
**_**The Canyon Suites:**_

By morning, Sarah Manning was getting suspicious. Neither Ben Adams… nor his little friend had returned during the night. Sarah was certain of that. Dressing in comfortable hiking clothes… as if just another tourist, she spared one long lingering look in the mirror to be certain she was at her best. Her clothes were crisply ironed and pleated. Her glossy hair was artfully pulled back and tied with a bandanna that coordinated with her shirt. Sarah grinned and picked up the wide-brimmed hat. She was ready… and just in case she ran into him… she looked as if she belonged here.

In the hallway, Sarah stepped closer to his door and closed her eyes. She still could feel no sense of him here. Her heart sank in despair. Had he given her the slip? How had he known she was still following him? Or was it something else. Behind her the sound of the utility cart exiting the service elevator gave her an idea. She moved down the hall and slipped into a small alcove to watch. There were only six suites on this floor… Sarah shouldn't have long to wait.

Half an hour later… the maid parked her cart in front of Benjamin's suite and knocked politely. "House-cleaning," she called out.

Sarah smiled. That was a good sign. That meant he was supposed to be here.

The maid used her keycard and opened the door, setting a trashcan by the propped open door and entered to begin her duties. Sarah slipped out of the alcove and headed for the room.

Laughing to no one, she waved at the door, "I'll only be a minute," and slipped in, giving the maid a wave as she passed into one of the two rooms. The bed was mussed as if it had been slept in. Sarah entered the adjacent bath… noticing the damp towels strewn on the floor and the shaving items in disarray on the messy countertop. She fingered the tooled "_AP_" on the leather kit and then turned to stare at the clothes hanging in the closet.

"Definitely your style," she said quietly to herself. Leaning over… she picked up a discarded shirt, holding it to her nose. "And your after-shave." She smiled, hearing the maid turn off the vacuum in the parlor room and enter the bedroom to strip the bed.

Sarah mumbled pleasantries and exited to check out the other bedroom. She took note of the still-made bed and the clothes that lay discarded on the floor. Sticking her head in the bath, she noted that it, too, showed signs of use.

"Curioser and curioser," she chuckled. "They were here… I recognize that blouse as the one she was wearing at dinner when I met her. But where were they last night?"

Swiftly… Sarah pivoted to exit the suite and return to hers. After hanging out the "Do Not Disturb" sign… she booted up her PPC and checked the satellite surveillance she had access to. Again and again she tried to find the vehicle. Nothing in any of the parking lots. After a long pause during which she attempted to get her breathing under control and her mind carefully ticking off possibilities… Sarah ran the access back to the last moment she'd seen the car, pulling out of the main lot toward one of the overlooks. She'd checked in then and had not rechecked the data last night as the hotel records showed Adams/Pierson was here. "Fool!" she hissed to herself. "If he's gone… I've lost valuable time."

The car was parked at an overlook until the satellite had moved out of position. By the time the next one had picked up the area… the car was gone. If she'd checked last night… she'd likely have caught it in enough time to find it. Now… she ran wider sweeps… but without something to go on… even a direction… she had no idea where to begin.

If this had happened to a target during her government days, they'd have gone into the files to learn more about past possible destinations… and properties. Sarah felt like tossing the small computer across the room. Instead she sat for a long moment, carefully thinking.

"I've lost track of him for the moment. That's not important. He'll surface again… but where?" Idly she pulled up the airport photo of the woman and two children. "Home," Sarah said. "You'd go home… eventually."

At the knock on her door, she angrily cried out to the maid to go away, and then set about hacking into the tax and land records of Fairfax County, VA. "You're here… I know you are."

-----

**Las Vegas, NV, last night:**

"I don't understand," insisted Jayne. "Why are we doing this?"

"I'm being watched," Methos said as he reluctantly covered the **_Centaur_** with a tarp. He'd called ahead and rented a storage building. He'd have to leave the car here so that they could disappear.

Jayne laughed. "Sorry… occupational hazard. I assume you mean by someone other than me."

"Sarah Manning, I think. She worked with the U.S. N.A.S. during the 1990's. She must still have credentials."

With a teasing smile Jayne shouldered her small bag. "You mean your old flame? Do you really have that strong an effect on women that once they've had you… they want you forever?"

Methos glared at her as he tied down the tarp. "The GPS in the **_Centaur_** was compromised. I took care of it in Chicago. At least… I thought that took care of it… but I want to be sure."

"In other words, you're paranoid."

Methos straightened and grabbed his small overnight bag. "I'll tell you a secret. Paranoia is the secret to longevity," he winked. "Let's go while we have the darkness."

"What about transportation to wherever we're headed?"

Methos closed and locked the storage shed with a laugh. "Trust me. I've had centuries of practice. I know how to vanish."

"Even with me tagging along?" Jayne was not happy that most of her things were still back at the hotel. She hadn't brought much with her… and Methos had insisted on their leaving without returning to the hotel… or officially checking out.

"Even with you," Methos said softly as he led the way onto the darkened city street. He'd need a good used car… one he could pay cash for. There could be no credit trail for the foreseeable future. He'd reclaim his car on some future day. Likely… he should have lost it before now… but he'd wanted that speed at his disposal just in case. Now… he feared leading anyone to Derrick… especially another immortal.

He'd have to have a reasonably reliable car. Methos knew that the fastest way to where he needed to be was to backtrack south and take the I-15 west to Barstow, Ca. From there he'd have to make the crossover to the I-5 just south of Bakersfield and head north… all the way to Seacouver. It was a long way… and he feared he was already too late.

**-----**

**Seacouver:**

Two days after vanishing… Derrick had returned… during the height of the lunch crowd… sauntering into the mess hall as if he'd only just stepped outside for a moment. Amber excused herself from the serving line to confront him.

"I was worried… where ha' ya' been?"

Derrick grinned and grabbed her by the waist as he danced around the floor. "I was buying you a surprise."

"What?" she asked breathlessly.

"Later… this afternoon. I'll show you." Around them was laughter and applause as he dipped her low and then inclined his face toward hers for a teasing kiss.

-----

"It's a bloody boat!"

"It's an ocean-going yacht. Used… but in good shape." Derrick grinned widely as if extremely pleased with himself.

"Like boats," Burke mumbled as he rambled up the gangplank intent on exploring. Wingate shook his head and shrugged with resignation. David and Michelle just laughed.

"I've always traveled on the big cargo ships. I wanted to travel across on a smaller one and really get the feel of the ocean."

"You do realize that once at sea… without proper paperwork… we'd have trouble getting back in anywhere… don't you?" David shook his head.

Amber glanced around as it dawned on her… that each of them was assuming they would be coming along… even David and Michelle. Amber's mouth worked open and shut as she considered what all of these immortals were considering… taking an ocean cruise on a small yacht… with other immortals. Somehow the recipe for disaster seemed to loom.

"Derrick," she whispered. "We can't all go on a boat. It wouldna be safe."

"Why not?" Derrick gazed at her with those blue eyes of his and just smiled. He shrugged as if the idea that anything could happen was as foreign to him as the concept of the game appeared to be. "We're friends… or at least companions. I sincerely doubt anything would really happen."

"What's your plan?" asked David.

"I thought we could head north and hug the coastline a bit before crossing over the Pacific. I don't think setting sail for Hawaii would be prudent with just us aboard. We'd need to learn to handle her first." He pointed to the name. "That's why I bought her."

"_Lady Ambergris II_," read Amber… a flush rising over features. "Why am I not surprised?"

Derrick hugged her tightly as he led her up the gangplank along with the others. "Let's take a look. I'm going… and any of you who wish to come are welcome. I think there're enough cabins for all of us. I can handle the navigation and the engines." His voice went on with his hopes and plans.

Amber tuned much of it out as she let him lead the way. Obviously… his idea of immortal friends took precedence over reality. Well… she for one would sleep only with her cutlass in hand. At least he admitted it would take time before they were ready to leave. Derrick evidently had plans for some short training cruises in the harbor before they headed out to sea.

-----

**Paris:**

Joe tapped off his phonecard and snorted. "They're goin' out to dinner somewhere." Idly he tapped his fingers on the surface of the arm of his wheelchair and thought about Mac's words.

"We ran into an old friend. We're going to dinner. We'll be in later."

"Damn!" snapped Joe. "He was keepin' somethin' from me."

"What would he be keeping?" Amy said as she washed the salad greens and began chopping the vegetables to go into the salad.

"I don't know. Is anyone on him tonight?"

Amy shook her head. "He's so good about telling you stuff, that we agreed to keep our distance from him. You know that."

"Yeah… well I thought maybe that was just for my benefit."

"Dad. Duncan MacLeod has shown he's a man to be trusted. We only watch when he meets with someone else and his or her Watcher makes a note of it. Most of the immortals, even those who know about us, don't pay us too much attention." She chuckled suddenly. "Well… other than Methos and the ones on Niebos that is. But those are special cases. There are a few others who have invited Watchers into their homes to chronicle their lives… but they are few. We generally keep our distance… and if they ask us to back off… we do so and call it in. Never again will we be a threat to them. At least not while I have any say so."

Joe couldn't help but smile. "You… uh… got that stubborn streak from me ya know."

Amy smirked and stuck her tongue out at him. "Do tell!"

Duncan had hated lying to Joe, but Alisaunne was an immortal he wanted the Watchers to leave alone… both for her sake… and for theirs. Satisfied that she was down for the night, and determined to check on her tomorrow, Duncan had decided a quiet dinner at _Faugeron_ across town on the _Rue de Longchamps_ would do both him and Amanda good.

In the taxi on the way over… he felt her curl into his embrace and rest quietly… silently… evidently a lot on her mind. He'd kissed her hair and wondered where they were headed in their lives… whether they would ever be ready for the next step in a relationship… or if they were only marking time… until something else… something better came along.

It was at times like this that Duncan inevitably thought of Tessa. Perhaps if they'd had that long life together… she wouldn't still prey on his mind whenever he considered a life with Amanda.

"I feel so sorry for her sometimes. She didn't ask to be different. And she certainly didn't ask for all the horrible things that have happened to her."

"I hear a but in there some place."

Amanda sat up, the passing lights flickering over her face. "She needs to pull herself together. She can't let what's happened to her rule her every thought." Amanda sat back dejectedly. "Maybe Derrick should never have told her about that cavern. I mean it's not as if the writing there or Darius' journal have ever made one bit of sense to her. It's not as if that old computer game you used to work on was ever completely solved.

Duncan had nodded his agreement. The game had stalled years ago. With Methos' help… he'd found the forty-five symbols of the ancient immortals. But as yet… he still had no clue as to what the symbols were really trying to say… only that they were a part of all the artifacts that Darius had collected over the centuries… artifacts still lost to them… still hidden somewhere at Waterloo.

The taxi arrived at the restaurant. Duncan paid the driver, tipping well as he and Amanda were ushered in. He'd called ahead for reservations. Inside, linen tablecloths, fine china, and elegant food awaited them. Duncan wanted to thank Amanda for all she'd done for Alisaunne today. Without her there, Duncan doubted he'd have been able to help the girl.

While waiting for coffee and dessert after their meal, Amanda excused herself to the powder room and Duncan sat contemplating life and listening to the melodious tones from the piano on one side of the restaurant. He was lost in thought when he felt a presence approaching the table. He sat back. "What kept you?"

A familiar voice laughed. "And here I thought I'd surprise you."

Duncan glanced up at the face of Katherine Mary Devaney… his wife of less than one night… whom he'd killed before her time. "Kate," he mumbled, the guilt and sadness that lay between them still a raw and gaping wound despite all the years since they'd attempted to seal the breach. That they'd failed in the aftermath of Connor's death to make a go of it… had only added additional layers of guilt to what he'd already felt. Truthfully, he'd not thought of her in years. "I'm here with someone."

"I saw. Not to worry," Kate said as she slid into Amanda's seat. "I won't stay. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Anything… you know that." He apprised her. She was even thinner than the last time he'd seen her… almost gaunt. "Are you all right? Do you need anything?"

"Funny you should ask. I need a child and I understand you know how I can have one."

Duncan paled as he sat back. The children were still a closely guarded secret… at least until they were grown. "Children? Immortals don't have children, Kate. You know that."

"I never believed it. And now I know there is a way… and that you know what it is." Her voice cut him like a knife. Duncan made no reply. Evidently someone who knew had said something to her. Furiously his mind ticked off those who knew… those who'd been sworn to secrecy. This could constitute a danger to Methos, Eleanor and the children they had sacrificed for to bring into the world. "I'd like to know who told you such a thing," Duncan finally said.

"I'll just bet you would." she looked up with a smile at the male immortal that approached. "Darling… you know my ex-husband."

Duncan stared into the brown eyes of the man he'd last seen in a cavern in Switzerland twelve years ago. "Alistair Craille," he murmured.

"MacLeod, nice to see you again under more agreeable circumstances. This is a most fortuitous meeting. Kate was wondering how to go about finding you."

Had Craille sensed something that day? Had he known? Or had someone mentioned it to him while he and others who'd been rescued had spent some time at _Ste. Genevieve_, recovering. Cassandra had worked with the ones there. She had known. Had she said something? Duncan's mind was filled with questions that had no answers.

"Duncan," Kate leaned closer. "I'm not asking you to father a child… only tell me how it's done," she clasped Craille's hand. "Alistair has said he'd father the child if we only knew what we had to do to make it happen."

Amanda returned at that point, smiling curiously at the two newcomers. "Kate… Alistair… a pleasure."

"Amanda… lovely as always," Alistair kissed Amanda's cheek.

Kate rose. "We need to go. Here's where we are staying. Please Duncan. You owe me this. Turn me down and I will never forgive you." Kate pivoted and pushed through Amanda and Alistair to make her withdrawal.

Alistair shrugged. "She's a woman of great passions. Pity you never bothered to learn that." He followed Kate out of the restaurant.

Amanda reclaimed her seat. She sat quietly until after the coffee and dessert was served. Finally she sighed. "I won't push, Duncan. But what did she want?"

Duncan picked up a spoon and swirled it about in the coffee cup. Finally he set it down and lifted the cup to his lips. He paused. Then he said directly. "She wants to have a baby. Evidently someone talked."

Amanda's eyes widened. "So what are you going to do?"

Duncan gazed at her numbly as he set the cup down. "I don't know." He picked up the address and held it in his hands, staring at it.

-----


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen  
****Paris:**

Later that night, Duncan stared out the window of the bungalow. They'd returned from dinner and made love… always a pleasing experience… and he'd held Amanda in the aftermath as she'd slowly drifted off to sleep. But he couldn't sleep… his mind was filled with thoughts of Kate.

He recalled meeting her that day her coach had been stopped by highwaymen and how he and Connor had dealt with them. That memory made him smile. They'd had a great deal of fun dealing with the men. It was a good memory… as was Kate the first time he'd seen her. She'd been lovely then… with long brown locks and a warm smile. He'd been instantly smitten… especially when he'd sensed the potential that lay dormant within her.

Connor had said it was best to move on. They'd done so… but when they'd parted company shortly after, Duncan had returned to Kate's village and had courted her. He'd been absolutely giddy at the thought of such a beautiful young wife who could remain so forever… at his side. Connor had told him once about loving Heather… a mortal… and how much it had hurt to lose her when she died. Duncan thought he'd found the answer to everything.

Even Connor's plea that he do nothing… that he let Kate's death be in the hands of fate, when he'd arrived for the festivities had done nothing to deter him. She even seemed to know her potential somehow… at least he thought she did when she'd teased about loving him forever… _till the day we are reborn_… she'd said.

So he'd done it. After making love to her and watching her sleep… even as Amanda now slept in the afterglow of love… he'd risen… found a dirk… and plunged it into Kate's breast. As she lay there dead… the enormity of what he'd done had come over him. She was dead. He'd killed her. What if he and Connor were wrong… what if she wasn't immortal? What if she didn't revive before morning? What if someone else saw the body… called the authorities… hanged him… buried her… and she revived in the grave? Scenarios of ever-increasing doom plagued him as he waited. But the one that had occurred… he'd never dreamt of… that learning what she was… she'd hate him.

She'd fled out into the night… arranged the next day for a quiet annulment… and refused to see him or speak with him. He'd left the area broken-hearted and consumed with guilt. The guilt had increased over the centuries as he'd heard what happened to her… how she'd become a prostitute… drifting listlessly from one man to another. No wonder she'd been a tempting pawn for Jacob Kell.

Carefully extracting himself from Amanda, Duncan rose to stand by the window and stare into the starlit night sky. He'd once asked Methos, once he'd learned of his relationship with Eleanor… their marriage long ago… and what had happened to them… if he'd ever considered killing his young wife.

Methos had stared soberly into the distance… his eyes slightly glazed and then nodded slightly. "I considered it and rejected it."

"Even knowing that you could have prevented her rape and murder by killing her first?

Methos nodded. "I loved her. And because I did… I couldn't be the hand that killed her… hurt her. You have to understand, MacLeod… I'd seen what happened to immortal women over the years. Only the very strong ones survived. I feared for her… I feared what would become of her if she became immortal. I do regret that I didn't tell her about me though. It might have changed some things."

He'd smiled across the room at Eleanor… laughing at some joke Cory Raines was telling… and sighed and then excused himself from Duncan and joined his wife.

As he stared into the night sky, Duncan knew that he owed Kate. For some reason she still believed that if she'd not been made immortal… she might have had children. It had been one of the things that had driven them apart in the aftermath of Kell's and Connor's deaths in 2002. She still held that against Duncan… she still ached with the need and not even his suggestion about adoption had fazed her. She wouldn't… couldn't. She wanted her own children. Now… she believed he knew how that could happen. He did… but was it the thing to do?

Glancing over at Amanda… with whom he'd recently begun to consider such a step… only to discover that it was not one she was interested in… he felt his own desire for a child rising. He'd have to talk with Amanda about it… this would require her approval as well. This was not something that could be done and forgotten… it would take a long-term commitment on his part toward… first Kate while she carried… and then the child as it grew. Kate and Alistair would be an inextricable part of their lives for two or three years at least.

His mind made up Duncan climbed once more into the bed and gathered Amanda into his arms. She snuggled sleepily against him… evidently not even aware that he'd left her side for a time. He kissed her dark hair and settled down finally to sleep.

-----

As he watched Amanda pack the next morning after he'd broached the subject… he began to regret that he'd done so.

Amanda smiled. "It's fine Duncan. I think we've both felt the need recently to be apart. Eleanor told me that she and Methos felt it often over the centuries… that they just knew they had to do other things apart from one another for a time… or else they'd kill one another. We've known the same. We always have."

"I don't want you to go. I'll tell Kate I don't know anything."

"But you want this." Amanda turned, approached him and ran her hands lightly over his face. "You want a child as much as she does. I'm… not ready for that commitment… I may never be. I like my life as it is. I can pick up and go whenever I want. Call me selfish." She shrugged impishly and then sobered. "Neither of us is ready for a permanent commitment to one another. You are free to go… and if… and when we find one another again…" she shrugged, "we can look forward to getting to know one another all over again." She kissed him.

He pursued the kiss urgently, holding tightly to her… hoping to convince her to stay. He wanted her to stay. But Amanda pulled free and bit her lip sadly. "I have to go. Tell Joe and Amy goodbye for me." She turned to shoulder her bag, blew him a kiss and left. Never had Duncan felt so alone… not even when Kate had left him so many centuries ago. Amanda had become such a part of him in recent years that he'd been unable to think of a future without her.

But she was right. He wanted a child… and this was a chance. He'd need to be focused on Kate and the child for a time… and Amanda would be a distraction. Amanda never liked being second in his life… and she would be. So she was doing what needed to be done. She was leaving before the chains they'd forged that bound them together fell into decay, and resentment took the place of love.

At first he'd been unable to understand how it was that Methos and Eleanor had needed a thousand years before they'd reached the point that they were ready… and why they'd urged caution to the few couples who knew of their bonding and were likewise interested. Now he began to understand. To be totally united to a person… to live fully in the other's mind… each had to have experienced and worked through every permutation of events possible and know and accept the strengths and failings of the other… else such a union could end in disaster.

He picked up the card with the number and address where he could reach Kate and Alistair. Fingering it slightly he nodded. He'd go to them. He'd tell them. After all… they didn't have to be bonded to have a child… Alisaunne's birth had proven that… and of that he'd remain silent. But Kate needed to know. What choice the couple made after he told them what was required would have to be theirs. Pulling out his phonecard he tapped in the number and waited.

-----

The taxi arrived and Amanda climbed in with only a short glance backward. She needed to let him explore this… or he'd end up holding it against her… but she couldn't be there… at his side. It was too painful. As the taxi sped off, Amanda mused over her reluctance to take this step. Perhaps it was because she feared giving up a part of herself. Or maybe it was that she was so old and had come to grips with this long ago. Or maybe she really was that selfish. For whatever the reason… she'd told Duncan that she wasn't interested when he'd broached the subject last year… and had sensed the regret he felt, especially whenever they visited Methos and Eleanor and the children. He watched J. D. and Marianna with a longing gaze and insisted on playing benevolent uncle around them.

Amanda gazed out at the passing cityscape. A clean break was best. They needed some time apart. There had been little things in the last year that had gotten on one another's nerves. Eleanor had warned her that those were an early warning sign.

"Does anything _he_ do now get on your nerves?" she'd asked her friend meaning Methos whom she'd nodded toward as he and Duncan played ball with J. D.

Eleanor had smiled to herself and waved a hand before her eyes. "Eavesdropping sometimes." She'd crossed her eyes slightly and stuck out her tongue in Methos' direction and then laughed. "We have no secrets anymore Amanda. Nor do we want them. It took a while for us to realize that. He had them. I had them. We had to let them go and accept the truth of who we each were… the whole truth… the good… and the bad." She'd shrugged. "It took a while. Since you and Duncan have known each other for so long… it might not take as long. When it's time… I have a feeling you'll know… you'll just know."

"And until then?"

Eleanor had taken her arm with a laugh. "It's best to wait."

Now in the cab, Amanda felt tears in her eyes. "But waiting is hard." She sniffed them away with a shake of her head. She was off to see old friends… and have new adventures. Like Scarlet O'Hara she thought… "_I'll think about that… tomorrow_." Her mind at rest… she let Duncan go and faced at least a temporary future without him.

-----

_**The Canyon Suites:**_

Sarah Manning packed her bag. She'd have to wait until dawn to officially check out… but at least she could be ready. She thought she knew just where the elusive Adam Pierson was living in Fairfax County. He'd slipped up. One of the names on the deed of property that had been passed on for several generations was Benjamin Pierce.

It had to be him. It was just too perfect. "I have you know!" she'd shouted with glee and had felt a warm sense of satisfaction that her research had paid off. "You've gone home. Or you will. Maybe wifey will be there first." Sarah smiled. "Maybe wifey would like a baby-sitter?" Laughing she'd fixed and downed a drink… scotch neat from the mini-bar. She could just see his face when he arrived home and there she was. Did wifey know about his immortality? Did she know about his infidelities? Oh yes… that could be a good one. True… they hadn't, but they'd come close… and in time… he would come to her again. After all… they were both immortal… and time was on her side.

As she poured a second drink she considered what to do if wifey was immortal. At that she drew her sword… a slim but stout short broadsword she'd had especially forged and swung it about her in pantomime of a beheading. Surely it would be no contest. Sarah had taken a dozen heads in the last century… most of them male. A measly little female would be no threat to her. Likely she was new… perhaps a student. At that Sarah slashed again… angrily this time. If he'd taken her on… why not Sarah? What made this one worthy of his support and interest and not her? Was she not beautiful? Dropping her sword to the floor, Sarah turned toward the full mirror on the wall.

She leaned in and ran her hands over her flawless and unlined face. She shook loose her hair… wondering if it was time to let it grow again… and return to her natural color. She ran her hands along her shape… eyeing and admiring her trim, well-muscled form. With a grin… she began to disrobe… and examine her absolutely flawless body. Her hands cupped her small breasts and squeezed and then moved down her stomach to the flat of her abdomen and then over her hips. She was perfect. Many men had said so. Many men… even immortal ones desired her. She'd used that to get inside their guard. But it wasn't Ben Adam's head she wanted… at least not now… it was him. "You should have told me," she whispered. "You should have killed me and made me yours for all time."

She closed in on the mirror and kissed her reflection, letting her tongue smear the glass while pinching her breasts and shivering in the thought of his hands on her… his lips whispering softly in her ear… him thrusting deep within her. Sarah shuddered and stepped back. This was fruitless. Wishing and hoping would not make it so. But action would. First things first… she had to get to Virginia… and explore the house. If she got there first… she could lay her plans. Sarah snatched her panties and bra from the floor and began to dress. She might find someone to help take the edge off later today… she might not even kill him… or hurt him… much.

-----

The advertising executive who sat next to her on the plane later that day was young, good-looking and more than happy to arrange a meeting once they got into DC. On the flight… she'd let one hand dangle provocatively on his leg and finally had eased it between them and let him close his legs on it as she'd gently massaged him. He'd done the same for her and the tension had built on the cross-country trip. By the time they'd disembarked… he'd wanted her immediately… which suited her just fine. They'd found a supply closet and gone at it like two desperately anxious animals. She'd positively raped him in her need for satisfaction. He hadn't seemed to mind… even the bites… or the bruises she'd inflicted.

He'd begged for her number as she'd straightened her clothes to leave. But she hadn't given it. She didn't even know his name. If he had someone in his life… he was going to have a hard time explaining all those hickeys she'd given him she thought as she left. Sarah flagged a taxi and gave them the address of a car dealership… the man instantly forgotten.

Behind her on the floor of the closet as he redressed and winced at his minor wounds… Daryl Miller decided the tigress was worth finding out a little more about. He spat blood into a handkerchief and tenderly felt the area of his tongue that she'd bitten as he tapped a number onto his phonecard. "Hi… Lucille? Tell Uncle Martin I think I've found just the lady we've been searching for, for that new film. Yeah… I know this is sudden, but trust me… she is definitely someone we can use and dispose of. I doubt she has any scruples at all. She'll never know what hit her until it's over." Laughing at whatever was said, Daryl tapped off the card and climbed gingerly to his feet. Oh man she'd done a number on him! He couldn't help but wonder what else she could do as he shoved the PPC he'd lifted from her purse during their little exchange into his briefcase. This next film was gonna be great… a real killer.

-----

Outside the gates of the Fairfax County horse farm, Sarah quietly observed the place through her telephoto lens for several hours. No one was obviously here other than a caretaker who worked with some of the horses. She watched him until darkness fell when he climbed into a pickup truck and drove off.

She smirked. Now for a little hand's on exploration!

She left her rental car parked in a glade and traveled across the fields to the large centuries' old brick house. Carefully she checked the windows for an alarm system. Finding it, she disabled it swiftly. It was a few decades old and easy to circumvent. Then she eased through some French doors to begin looking around. She found nothing of interest on the household computer system in what appeared to be an office… at least nothing that indicated this was indeed Ben's place. Nor did she find any papers in his desk that had anything to do with other than raising horses.

Slamming the drawers, Sarah decided to check the other rooms. A quick glance showed her clean, well-kept rooms with nice but not overly expensive furniture on the main floor. Evidently they entertained sometimes from the position of the furniture and the number of chairs about the formal dining table.

Sarah looked through the kitchen but again found nothing of interest, not even a calendar with dates circled on it. She climbed the stairs to the family's personal space. The two bathrooms on the second floor gave no clues. They were clean and neat as a pin. Sarah didn't really see much in the way of personal items. It was the same with the master bedroom. There were clothes in the closet and in the drawers. All clean. She checked the other two bedrooms, which evidently belonged to the children. Again… she found nothing.

Sarah was stomping a foot petulantly and trying to decide if it was worth it to check the rooms on the third floor when her gaze fell on a photograph in the little girl's room. She came closer to it. It was at that point that she realized that she had not seen a single photograph or portrait in the entire house. Nor had she found scrapbooks or photo albums. Even this picture wasn't of a person… but of a mountainous island somewhere in an aquamarine sea. Something about the island made her pause. She'd seen it elsewhere in this house.

Returning to the boy's room, Sarah leaned closely to a wall display of pirate items. The boy was evidently into Peter Pan and pirates. Thumb tacked next to a flimsy cardboard pirate hat was a crayon drawing of a map… featuring a mountainous island. The island appeared to have been drawn by a strong steady hand. Then in childish scrawl, places were marked on it. "Mermaid's Lagoon", "Treehouse", "Indian Village". Sarah smiled as she pulled it free and returned to the girl's room. Holding the map next to the picture, she assured herself it was the same place. She could see a small village where the boy had placed the Indian Village. There was indeed a cove at the Mermaid Lagoon, and a villa stood high on the mountain's side where the treehouse was placed. She let the child's map drift to the floor.

She lifted the picture from the wall and broke the glass to remove the photograph from the frame. She turned it over but saw nothing written there. They'd gone to Greece… the woman and her children. Perhaps they'd gone here. She tapped the picture against her fingers with a bitter smile. A little on-line research might help her find the island. At least she had a place to start looking.

Sarah pocketed the picture and left. Once back in the car, she pulled onto the drive and then out onto the highway. She'd find a hotel and start her research. She was in no hurry. After all… they might already be on their way back here. She'd keep an eye on this place while she searched.

-----


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen  
****Paris:**

At the **_Hotel Royale_**, Duncan waited nervously in the bar for Kate and Alistair to arrive. He glanced about the room, wondering if a Watcher was present, but saw no one he recognized. It couldn't be helped if someone was here, one of their Watcher's… but he'd make certain that they said nothing in the bar that would end up in a chronicle somewhere. It simply was neither the time nor the place for sensitive information like this to get out. He stood politely as Kate entered with Alistair just behind her.

Coming to a halt in front of Duncan she smiled bitterly. "Well?"

Duncan shook his head with a chuckle. "Nice to see you again too Kate." He gestured toward the chairs.

Kate leaned forward. "What's necessary?"

"Not here," Duncan warned quietly and then smiled at the waiter and gestured for Kate and her companion to order. They made small talk until the drinks were brought and then Kate stared at him with widened eyes. "It's possible," he said quietly.

"I know that," she snapped. "Tell me how. What do I have to do?"

Duncan glanced around covertly. "We really can't discuss specifics here." Again he wondered how she knew… what made her so certain. He'd definitely have to get to the bottom of that as well. Perhaps after she had what she wanted.

Alistair laughed. "Then where shall we discuss them… in a dark alley somewhere?"

"No," Duncan replied with a head-shake, "But we do need privacy. Perhaps a walk in the Luxembourg Gardens later. Someplace public… but where there's less of a chance of being overheard."

"Oh that's convenient," Kate said sitting back and downing her drink. "Haven't you dueled there on any number of occasions? I'll bet you have someone to keep me busy while you two have it out."

"Not for… " Duncan glanced around, "… years." He arched his eyebrows. "You pick a place, then. It was just a suggestion."

Alistair laughed. "You act like someone is following you… or will kill you for telling her anything."

"It's not _me_ I'm worried about," Duncan said darkly.

Alistair sipped his cocktail as he met Duncan's glare with a smirk of superiority. "Oh very well. Let's finish up and leave. We can decide where to go once we've left the hotel."

Duncan nodded his agreement. Kate's eyes shone brightly. She smiled. He so seldom had seen her smile since the early days. She mouthed her silent thanks. Duncan finished his drink with a curt nod. He was doing this for her… and if it was Alistair she wanted… she could have him. He just hoped she knew what she was doing.

Shortly later they were strolling around the base of the Eiffel Tower. Duncan smiled to himself as he recalled a certain tango on the higher levels. Again he looked about carefully as they rose in the cage to see the view of Paris from the top.

"What are you thinking of?" Kate asked quizzically. "You're smiling warmly."

"Just a tango," he said.

She snorted. "You and dancing."

"As I recall… you liked to dance once. You even said I was the best dance partner you'd ever had."

"I was young and naive," Kate replied. "I was in love."

Duncan smiled slightly with a soft chuckle. "So was I," he said ruefully. "So was I." But it was the tango he was thinking of… and the sudden realization at the end of it that he cared more about Amanda that he'd ever wanted to admit… especially to himself.

The cage door opened and they stepped out onto the crowded platform. Duncan led them to one wall and kept an eye on the others who'd come up with them… two families with young children and a couple obviously in love. Quietly he spoke his piece. "There's a way… a dangerous way. It drains the immortality from the parents and requires an enormous sacrifice on their part. It can easily kill the mother."

"But it can be done… and safely?" queried Kate.

Alistair shifted. "How much and for how long?"

Duncan waved a hand slightly. "I'm not certain. After the child is born the mother is usually safe, but the father's responsibilities increase." He paused. "As do the other's." He remained silent while his words took effect and sank in.

"Others? As in more than the parents?" breathed Kate.

"Other… as in a third party," he replied flatly.

Kate stared at him without comprehension. Then slowly the meaning of his words began to dawn on her. "Oh…" she mouthed and looked around, "… as in _ménage e trois_?"

Alistair grabbed Duncan's arm. "If you think there is any way I'm gonna allow you to touch her…" he began sharply.

Duncan shook his head. "Not exactly," he said to Kate. He stared into Alistair's face. "It's not like that. But…" he hesitated and then went on when Kate touched his arm pleadingly. "It does mean that the three of us would need to be… involved in raising this child. Unless you understand and commit to that… this conversation is at an end." They already knew too much… but without the full explanation that he was withholding… if they decided against this… he'd leave and there'd be no harm done.

Kate shook her head as she mumbled. "Three of us… that makes sense. The doctors say I have everything. They say they can find no reason why I can't bear a child." She looked at Duncan pleadingly. "Anything… I'll do whatever it takes."

Alistair shifted uncomfortably, until she turned to him. "It'll be fine. We can do this." Curtly he nodded.

Duncan let out a long breath. "I haven't done this… you understand… only been told about it. I offer no guarantees that it will work."

"How does Amanda fit into this equation," Kate inquired.

"She doesn't."

Kate stared at him and then nodded. Evidently she understood on some level that Amanda was gone… that she'd left so that Duncan would be free to help them.

"So what do we do now?" Kate's voice was rising slightly and Duncan noted a face getting off the elevator that he'd seen at the hotel.

"Later. We need to leave… now. Not another word!" He took Kate's arm brusquely and led her aboard the elevator. He whistled slightly as the cage door slammed just before the familiar face could get back on, and the three of them descended to the ground.

"Where now?" Alistair replied.

"Holy Ground," Duncan said quietly.

"Why Holy Ground?" the English immortal said.

"For safety and to ask the blessings of the gods on the union," Duncan replied with exasperation. He didn't know if Holy Ground was essential… but two of the three children born to Eleanor had been conceived on Holy Ground… so it couldn't hurt.

"Safety?" Kate asked as he ushered her to the curb and flagged a cab. He motioned the two of them in. "Call me when you decide. I'll find a place."

"He's afraid I'd kill him if he hurt you," Alistair said with a smirk.

As the cab drove off, Duncan nodded. "You're not wrong in that," he said softly, recalling that Methos had told him how he'd threatened Derrick as if the boy would stand in his way or interfere once Eleanor was fertile. "I wanted to kill him," the ancient had said. "If he hadn't left… if he hadn't been so frightened by what had happened… I might have. Then I might have lost her as well," he added sadly. "And I wouldn't have made the connection between Darius and Alisaunne… and us."

Another time, Phillip had mentioned feelings of jealousy even on Niebos when he'd helped them conceive Marianna. "Understand… Highlander. I didn't want her… and yet I did. Holy Ground is the best place for this. I was able to walk away… and they were safe until it no longer mattered."

The cab vanished into traffic. Duncan flagged another vehicle to return to Joe's. He needed to do some research to find the perfect place for this… or one of them would likely end up dead. But it might not get that far. He could sense a real reluctance on Alistair's part. On the hand he chuckled, Kate could be very persuasive.

-----

**_Chateau_ de Valicourt:**

The manor house rose before her like a square block. Amanda had never thought of it as an especially charming house… but it was huge. She alit gracefully from the taxi and stood waiting while the driver removed her bag from the trunk of the cab and set it on the ground beside her. She murmured her thanks as she tipped him a little extra on top of the fare and smiled coyly into his beaming face. He tipped his hat and left whistling. Amanda sighed. It took so little to make some men happy. All a pretty girl had to do was smile at them.

Glancing up at the open door she beamed as Robert de Valicourt emerged… his arms spread wide and his face filled with welcome. "Amanda! I wondered who'd pulled up. Gina will be so happy to see you." He gave her a warm hug and then suddenly pulled back… his eyes wide as if startled.

"Is something wrong Robert?" Amanda asked.

"No… nothing," he shrugged as he ran one hand through his dark hair. He leaned to pick up her bag. "Where's Duncan?"

"Involved in a little project. I thought I'd drop by for a visit. I was in Paris and thought I'd travel north to visit a day or so if that's all right."

"You are always welcome," he said with a smile and lifted her hand to his lips. Again he got a wild look in his eye and dropped her hand.

Amanda watched him curiously as he showed her inside. But once inside she saw Gina descending the wide staircase. "Amanda!" the Italian beauty cried and grabbed her shoulders to kiss each cheek. "Robert and I are happy to see you. So what is this project of Duncan's?" She took Amanda's arm and propelled her into the parlor.

"Oh? Did Duncan call you? Well he must have if you know. It was just something he wanted to look into and I was bored. I thought I'd stop by before heading home to Florence. It's no trouble is it?"

"Trouble? _You_ are never trouble." Gina eyed Robert still in the foyer. "Robert is sometimes trouble."

"Oh?" Amanda glanced between them. "If this is a bad time… I can go on."

"Nonsense! You must stay for the weekend. Maybe Duncan will finish early and drop by."

"Maybe," Amanda said. Maybe he'd reconsidered and had figured out where she was going. Obviously Gina had spoken with him, even if Robert hadn't. Glancing once more into the foyer, she watched Robert carry her bag up the stairs.

"Don't mind Robert. He's been a little naughty lately. He has rather lusty thoughts about our Watcher sometimes so I'm giving him a cold shoulder these days."

"Robert? And a Watcher?" Amanda settled onto a settee. "Details Gina… I want details."

"Oh… it's nothing really. She's very young and he thinks she's very attractive. He wouldn't mind sticking it to her as he puts it." She poured a brandy and handed it to Amanda.

"Well… interesting that he tells you these things," Amanda replied in confusion.

"Yes… Isn't it," Gina said thoughtfully as she poured a second drink. She downed it quickly before turning to Amanda with a smile. "At any rate… your being here will help him keep it in his pants." There was an edge to her voice that Amanda wasn't too certain about. She'd thought the long-married couple had worked through most of their problems right before their three hundredth anniversary. That one had nearly ended in a divorce. But it sounded as if Gina and Robert were heading for trouble once more. Gina smiled and settled beside her. "But enough about Robert. Tell me about Duncan." There was a softness to the way she said Duncan that put Amanda on edge… as if Gina were actually contemplating an assignation with her old suitor.

"He's fine," Amanda said as she sipped her brandy. "He's just busy. You know… busy… busy… busy. I just thought he could use some time to himself for this little project."

Gina rested her chin on one hand. "What project?"

"Oh… nothing… just something to do with…" she paused thinking wildly as to what she could say. "… That computer game. Right… the game. He had a new idea about it and wanted time to work on it."

"That's wonderful," Gina said. "I wonder if he could use a fresh pair of eyes looking over the data. I used to so enjoy puzzles."

Amanda sipped again. At least he hadn't mentioned his plans to Gina. Amanda felt uncomfortable talking to another immortal about letting her man go off to help another couple conceive a child… especially as it was his ex-wife he was helping. And besides, Gina was an old girlfriend. It might give _her_ ideas too. "I think he wanted some alone time… you know… to walk the battlefield again," she deferred.

"Well… he does too much. I know he feels responsible for all of us and eager to find a way to end the game without all of us dying… but he takes too much on."

Amanda nodded with another sip. "I think so too," she said as she thought about what he was taking on now. If Methos hadn't been off seeking Derrick, Amanda would have called him to intervene in this. But it was likely too late now. She'd say nothing and let the events play out, as they must. Perhaps Kate would change her mind. Amanda didn't know Alistair Craille well, but she did know he was ne'er-do-well English fop who had always looked for the easy way out. Never much interested in the game, he'd been more interested in an easy life… and marrying for money. He was also a bit of a gambler.

Amanda recalled beating him rather badly in a poker game in Boston in 1885. He'd gambled more than he could afford and she'd taken it all. He hadn't been happy… but he'd been resigned. "At least," he'd told her. "You don't want my head." And she hadn't… not his head at any rate.

-----

Joe glanced up from reading when he saw MacLeod return to the bungalow. He subbed his chin over his beard and sighed. Something was up. Amanda had left early this morning… and Mac a few hours later. Now Mac was back alone. Joe waited a few moments before wheeling out to the bungalow to tap at the open door.

"Am I disturbing you?"

"Of course not Joe, come on in," Mac was shoving clothing into a bag.

"Going somewhere?"

Mac paused. "I may leave for a few days to visit some friends."

"Anyone I know?"

Mac seemed to stew over something and then faced Joe. "The Watcher tell you where I was and who I met?"

Joe shook his head. "I haven't heard anything. You know I don't have anyone on you directly."

Mac returned to packing. "I know that Joe… he was likely hers."

"Hers?" Joe wheeled closer. "Hey… my housekeeper mentioned that Amanda left early this morning. Did you two have a fight?"

Mac shook his head. "No… not a fight… not exactly."

"Then what?"

Mac sat on the side of the bed. "Let's just say we decided to pursue other interests for a while. We've been together almost twelve years, Joe. For us that was a record. I think we just decided to be apart for a while."

Joe shifted in his chair, clearly concerned. "Is this kinda sudden?"

Mac shook his head. "It's been building a while. It's not permanent, Joe. Methos and Eleanor both told us that this would happen… it's inevitable."

"So who is this _she_?" Joe said slipping into Watcher mode.

Mac shot him a sharp glance and then shook his head with a laugh. "Kate," he said.

"As in Kate MacLeod… your wife?"

"That marriage was annulled after one night Joe."

"Yeah… but you two tried a reconcilement about twenty years ago after Kell died."

"Which didn't work."

"So?"

Mac sighed. "We met at dinner last night. She was with Alistair Craille."

"Yeah… they've been a real item for the past six months."

Mac nodded as he leaned back with a gesture of explanation. "Anyway… she wanted to talk so I met with them today at their hotel… and then we took in the Eiffel Tower. That's where I spotted a Watcher and we left… suddenly."

"What'd she want," Joe pushed.

Mac shrugged. "This and that… mostly that." He laughed and hit Joe's arm. "We're fine Joe. It was just small talk."

"Musta been some small talk if Amanda took off without an argument."

Mac shrugged. "Like I said. It's been building. I guess we both thought we'd better split before tempers erupted. Tempers between immortals can get deadly, you know."

"Yeah. But you two seemed fine the other night."

Mac smiled. "Yeah… well… appearances can be deceiving. You of all people should know that."

Joe narrowed his eyes. "I know you well enough to know when you're not telling me something. Mac… level with me. I'm your friend."

Duncan slapped his hands together and pumped them up and down while he seemed to consider his next words. Finally he looked up. "It's nothing, Joe. Amanda and I are fine. This is just a diversion of our path together. Methos and Eleanor said they hit some doozies over their thousand-year history. Let's just say we need a breather. Kate and I are most definitely not getting back together."

His phonecard beeped. He looked at it for a moment and then at Joe who made no move to leave. Mac tapped the card and held it up. "Yeah?"

A woman's voice sounded. "Duncan. We've talked about it. We want to know more."

"I'll call you later." He tapped the card off and looked levelly at Joe. "It's nothing."

"Nothing? What does that bitch want to know?"

"Joe…" Mac said… the plea for understanding in his tone. Joe snorted unrepentantly. "I promised to help Kate and Alistair with a project."

"No wonder Amanda split," Joe said as he turned the chair to leave. "And I don't blame her. Trust me MacLeod… getting involved with that woman on any level is gonna get you killed." He left turned and left abruptly… hitting high speed as he wheeled along the paved path crossing the Amy's walled garden.

Duncan stared sadly after his friend. "That's what I'm afraid of," he finally said as he rose to finish packing. Or if not him… he had a feeling someone would die. Or if not die… he wondered if he'd be the same. What he would lose? But the chance of this was enticing.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he looked about the place and then left, climbing into the car he'd left parked in Joe's driveway earlier. He hadn't wanted to use it when meeting with Kate and Alistair earlier… but now… he needed to find a place where they could make this work.

-----


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen  
****Seacouver:**

Methos lifted the chess piece sitting on George Layton's marker. "A white bishop… of course." If there were any proof that Derrick had been here… it had to be that. That and the wilted flowers the Ancient immortal had found on a number of graves, including that of Derrick's foster parents.

"You really think he was here?" Jayne asked. She'd tried to stay out of the way for most of this trip, but the headlong drive up the West Coast had been wearying for her. She was tired, and she wanted to know just who this immortal was. Her research had turned up nothing in the on-line archives… not even an alert about the man.

Standing suddenly, Methos replaced the chess piece on the marker and eyed his Watcher. He trusted her as much as he trusted any of them… except maybe Joe… and still he held his tongue. Derrick's existence needed to be kept quiet until they found him. The problem now was… where to start looking. He pulled the photo out and stared at the face of the man gazing out at him… "Someone had to see you. I just have to figure out where you'd go."

A cursory examination of hotels had been fruitless. There were too many hotels… and Methos had no idea where to begin looking. He'd tried the one they'd stayed at years ago… to no avail. He'd been so certain that Derrick would have stayed there… he'd not really thought this through clearly. He'd driven down by MacLeod's old apartment building… nothing there. He'd stopped by Joe's old bar… He'd even gone so far as to sit on a park bench outside the school and had seen nothing. The cemetery was the only clue that the young man had even been in Seacouver.

"_You came to pay your respects,_" thought Methos. "_You knelt at these graves and you talked to them about how you'd lived and what you still hoped for in your life… for the life they'd died for. You felt guilt that these mortals died in your place… and that you still lived_." He knew Derrick. He understood how the young man had thought all those years ago. But did he still think the same way. _"You'd want to make a difference, somehow… prove that they had not died in vain_."

A small smile crossed his face. Methos gestured to Jayne. "Let's go." A thought had occurred to him.

"Where?"

"There's an area of this town called the Zone. The dispossessed live there. He might have gone there."

"And do what?"

Methos smiled. "Try to make life better… give others what they need." Inside his head, he felt Eleanor's laughter as he'd puzzled it out.

"_We lived on the street. We tried to help others. It was rough… but he was happy… content_."

Once in the car, Methos started the ignition and headed out of the cemetery… to the Zone.

-----

At the mission on Curritack Street, on the edge of the Zone, Methos finally found someone who recognized Derrick's picture.

A rheumy-eyed old wino, his gray-beard tangled and matted, sat at one table in the mess hall of a street mission playing chess with himself. When Methos showed him the picture, the wino's eyes had glittered and then seemed to gloss over. "Nope. Don't know him."

Methos laid a twenty-dollar bill on the table. The wino, getting ready to move pawn stared at it. Methos laid another one down. "He's a friend. I need to find him."

The wino met his gaze. He reached for and picked up the two twenties, rubbing his thumb over them lingeringly, then laughed and handed them back to Methos. "Don't need them. I'm fine, really."

"Then a donation to the mission itself." Methos said. He rose and without fanfare headed to a locked box near the kitchen-serving window. He peeled off several more bills, folded them and stuffed them into the slot. Then he returned to the table. "He may need help. My wife is his sister."

The wino seemed to consider his words. "Gone. They left early this morning."

"They?"

"All of them. They came together. Became right close with the couple that useta run this place. They left this morning."

Methos shook his head. _So close_. "Do you know where they were headed?"

The old man smiled. "West."

Methos leaned back on the bench. "West? But the only thing west is the… ocean." Suddenly it made sense. Derrick had always been fascinated by the ocean. He'd returned to the sea once again… as if someone or something was calling him home.

An hour later, Methos and Jayne stood on the Seacouver docks and stared out at the crashing surf. Seagulls glided above the water and congregated on the piles of refuse on a garbage barge being towed out to sea.

"So what now?" asked the young Watcher.

Methos shook his head. He could try hacking into port records to see if they'd filed a report… if he knew what the name of the boat was… or even under what name Derrick had filed papers. Or had he even filed paperwork? And if he had… would he go where he'd indicated? There were too many variables.

For a moment he could sense Eleanor beside him. On the far side of the world, she'd awakened and he could sense her resignation. "_He's a grown man, Aella_," he thought using the name only he called her anymore, her first name. "_We have to let him make his own choices_."

He sensed her resignation and withdrawal. There was likely nothing more he could do. Turning to Jayne, he shrugged. "That's it… I guess. End of the road. Let's get a room… rooms… and rest overnight. I'll see about plane tickets home later."

Jayne nodded quietly and followed him back to the car. "What about _your_ car?"

"It'll be fine in storage. I'll make arrangements to have it shipped back to Virginia. I want it off the grid for a while."

"You really think someone was tracking us using it?"

Methos shrugged. "They were. I don't like taking chances."

Jayne adjusted the seatbelt as the immortal started the ignition. "It would help if I knew why this man's important to you," she said softly.

Methos shook his head, still unwilling to say too much. Whatever Derrick was doing… he needed the time to accomplish it. If he needed help… he knew how to contact them. He and Eleanor would just have to wait this out. Evidently he was gathering immortals to him… but which ones? And why?

-----

Later that day, he checked them both into adjoining rooms at the Hilton. He'd have to stop by the bank in the morning where he had a safe deposit box. He hated to surface long enough to do that, but it was in an alias that he'd used only for this box, so surely Sarah would not pick up on it. His cash reserves were getting slim, and he needed to decide where to go next.

As darkness settled over the city, and the lights began to glow in the street outside, Jayne seemed preoccupied with some research she was attempting on her PPC. She kept murmuring obscenities at whatever the system was showing her.

"Problems?" he asked from the open doors between their adjoining rooms.

She glared at him. "Oh… part of the system is down and keeps asking for passwords and clearances which I've entered… but it's not acknowledging them."

"Have you called the local supervisor?"

Jayne nodded. "But she's in a meeting. Evidently something is wrong with…" she gestured with a smile… "the computer system."

Methos snorted. "I could help?"

"No thanks. Amy told me to keep you hands off except in an emergency. You tend to copy and download information you have no right knowing," she laughed.

"All in the name of protecting my family," Methos said with just the right bit of pout in his voice.

Jayne stuck her tongue out at him.

Laughing, he told he was going to take a bath. "Call me if you need anything," he said as he closed the doors. He ripped off his sweat-dampened shirt and light trousers, kicking off the loafers as he ran the bath water. Normally he'd shower… but he felt the need to relax in a hot tub and do some thinking about what he needed to do now.

The tub full, he slipped into the steaming water and laid back… his eyes closed. He could sense Eleanor with him. She was still abed and barely awake. Yet she felt him and seemed to stretch out with him. They'd never been separated for this long and he was longing for her with every breath he took… as he could tell she longed for him as well.

"When I get back," he told her, "nothing will tear me away again for a long time."

"Promise?" she replied as she seemed to flow over him. He wondered idly how he felt to her. "Like warm water, buoying me on gentle waves."

He shifted. "Gentle waves?" he laughed, and was rewarded with the feel of her on his lips. He could almost taste her and smell the honeyed scent of her. Eventually she became more real to him than the cooling water.

It was therefore a start when he heard Jayne cry out and pound on the bathroom door yelling his name.

Methos sat up swiftly; his dream already vanished into memory, and rose to grasp his sword, lying on the floor. Water dripped from him as he flung open the bathroom door, his sword raised in an attacking stance.

Jayne was pacing his room. When she saw him… her mouth dropped open and she stared at him… really stared. "Oh… my!" she mouthed and then blushed.

"What's wrong?" He asked looking swiftly about his room and through the open door into his.

"I… I… I… didn't mean to startle you," she fumbled for words. Her color was deepening. "I found something… but you didn't answer when I knocked. I was worried." Suddenly she covered her mouth and ran from his room.

Methos lowered the broadsword and glanced down at the water soaking into the carpet around his bare feet. He snorted and returned to the bathroom to grab a towel and dry off. Once he was dressed, he knocked gently on her door.

"Go away!" she cried out.

"Jayne… it's all right," he insisted and opened the door.

She was curled on her bed sobbing.

Methos lounged against the opening with a rueful smile. "I generally bathe in the nude. You might want to add that to my chronicle."

"Oh go away!" Jayne sputtered and rolled to face the window.

"It's all right. I'm not embarrassed."

"But I am," she said softly.

"Why?"

"Because when I saw you like that… I had thoughts."

"Erotic thoughts," he grinned.

She covered her face, but he could see how scarlet it had become. "I can't do this anymore. I'd never thought of you that way… and then there you were and now it's all I can think of."

Methos laughed gently. "Well… you were startled… in fact we both were. Now what did you find out?"

"Eleanor will kill me."

"I doubt that. She thinks it's funny."

Jayne groaned. "Tell her I am so sorry."

"She knows. Now what did you learn?"

Jayne peeked out from between her hands and carefully regarded him. Once satisfied he was clothed once more she uncurled from the bed and sat up. "I just don't want you to think I had ulterior motives or anything."

"Never crossed my mind," he smirked.

Jayne rose and motioned toward her PPC on the table. "I remote linked through London using my dad's codes. He's got higher priority codes than I do."

"Did it work?"

"Like a charm. He told me that it was something he learned from you." Her blush was apparent again as he stepped closer to her to see what was on the plasma screen.

"So what did you find out?"

"Well… I came at this from a different angle. I figured if this guy you're tailing was managing to stay off the radar, there wouldn't be anything in the current bulletins about him… but!" She held up a finger with a smile. "He's been collecting other immortals to travel with him… right?"

Methos nodded.

"So… I began to wonder what immortals had managed to lose their Watchers in the past few months. I found seven. But these three are the most interesting."

"Why's that?" he asked.

"The first one is along the road he likely traveled between California and Arizona. The next was in Arizona… the third… was near Colorado on the way he might have traveled back toward the Grand Canyon. And then the real kicker." She grinned… her face once more its normal color as she'd given him her information.

"Which is?"

"The couple at the mission is off the database too. It seems their Watcher put in for a transfer right before they vanished."

Methos took her PPC in his hand and scrolled through the bulletins and the profiles. It made sense. Something had always seemed to linger around Derrick… as if some guiding hand had protected him. It was the same with Eleanor. Even now she could manage to just know where security cameras were and could avoid having her picture taken… or at least seemed to be able to obscure her face well enough that it remained a blur.

Slowly he tried to think through the disappearances of these immortals. The various Watchers had had a series of unrelated minor events that had somehow added up to Derrick passing through the area and collecting their immortals somehow to vanish with them. He'd arrived in Seacouver with the three… collected the two at the mission… and then had managed to set sail with the five of them? Methos shook his head. It was one thing for he and MacLeod to travel together occasionally… or he and Phillip… there was always an element of danger, and a fear of traveling in groups, that always bothered him. Too many knew he existed now… too many knew his name… too many knew of him. Methos feared his chances for survival were dwindling. Again he tried to fathom what Derrick was doing.

_Whatever they need._

Methos' head snapped up from regarding the screen as he heard Eleanor's words. She understood the boy in a way no one else ever had. Derrick had always felt the need to help others. Why wouldn't he try to help immortals somehow? But if he were helping them… where would they go?

Leaning on the table Methos shook his head. "It still doesn't make sense."

"Why not?" Jayne asked, evidently no longer embarrassed about earlier. She sank into the hard chair at the table and leaned on the table's surface to regard the immortal and her PPC.

"There's nothing in the Pacific. At least nothing we know of."

"Maybe its not his destination… just the way he has to get where he's going?" she replied thoughtfully. Then she looked puzzled. "Should I report my findings?"

"No," he said in a clipped manner. 'Let me talk to Dawson and Amy, first. Let's get their imput before putting this out on the network." He suddenly grinned. "Any clue yet why the database was so locked up earlier?"

Jayne shook her head.

Methos began tapping commands onto her PPC.

"What are you doing?" she asked sharply.

He grinned devilishly. "Copying and downloading," he teased as she attempted to get it from him. When he finished he tossed it to her. "We'll leave tomorrow."

"For where?"

Methos sighed. "Ever been to Greece?"

Jayne looked at him thoughtfully. "If you mean Niebos to collect Eleanor and the kids… you know I can't go. It breaks the agreement the Watchers have with the immortals there."

"Not if it's your new assignment," the immortal said smoothly.

Jayne stared.

"I put you in for it when I realized your time with me was nearly up. The current Watcher on Niebos is due to retire. Interested?" He smiled as he saw the interest and excitement in her face. Then she blushed once more.

"But Eleanor's there… I can't face her right now… not after earlier."

Methos laughed. "Relax… she agrees it's the perfect assignment for you. Now… shall we order room service or do you want to celebrate in the dining hall… although…" He pulled out his wallet. "We might have to limit the celebration until I can get more funds tomorrow."

"Room service is fine," Jayne laughed. "Just as long as neither of us takes anymore baths while the doors are unlocked.

"Agreed," Methos smirked, and winked teasingly at the young woman.

-----

**Northern Pacific:**

_Lady Ambergirs II, _was not a luxury yacht, but it was seaworthy. An older boat… it boasted sails as well as a reliable diesel system and upgraded navigational electronics. The galley was adequate, and the cabins were cramped… barely room for bunks. The two larger cabins were commandeered by Derrick and Amber in one… and David and Michelle in the other. Wingate and Burke took the two smaller ones in the bow. None of them had brought much in the way of belongings… although David had his carpentry tools… and Derrick had loaded the jet cycle into the hold.

Michelle had taken over the galley duties and her expertise in the kitchen for small meals was a delightful surprise. "I studied at _Le Cordon Bleu_ back about twenty years ago. It was a lark… for fun… but I did enjoy it. Unfortunately… I could never really use that at the mission."

David spent part of each day working with wood on the deck. His craft and skill in the pieces he made… even in the rise and dip of the yacht through the waves… were a wonder. Amber was truly impressed. "Maybe we'll sell some when we land," David suggested.

Burke usually spent his day standing in the bow on deck as the ship plowed through the waves and waving his arms… as he screamed at the ocean. Derrick sat in the captain's chair… handling their speed and direction with a big grin on his face. "I think he's happy," he chuckled and indicated Burke. Amber nodded. Everyone seemed happy… except her. She'd taken to wearing her cutlass openly just in case anyone had any ideas. After all… she had no idea how long they'd be at sea… and what anyone's ulterior motives were for coming.

Michelle had murmured something about wanting to get away for a bit before she and David opened their furniture store… now that the mission was in good hands. She would continue to keep an eye on its operation via computer. Between watching over the mission and the cooking… Michelle would have plenty to do.

Wingate, however, was still a complete mystery to her. Other than wanting his sword back… he had no reason that Amber could think of, for continuing to travel with them… unless he was waiting for Derrick to turn his back. Amber was determined to watch over the young immortal. She'd told him so when he'd made a comment about the cutlass.

He'd laughed at her but had said nothing. When she'd pushed for at him for "_Why this trip?_"… he'd shrugged. "I told you. I saw the ocean many times while working aboard the big ships. I wanted to experience it once on a small one… one that I could control." Amber felt it was all the answer she'd ever have.

Slowly they made their way up the coast… and the air grew slightly cooler the further north they sailed. In the distance… Amber occasionally saw ice flows… broken off and melting in the unseasonable heat of this early summer. If it were this warm now… what would it be like later on… especially further south?

"You need to relax more," Derrick laughed as he watched her. He seemed to find her vigilance amusing somehow.

"I'll relax when I'm dead," she replied. And all the while… her gaze flitted over their companions… and watched… and waited.

-----


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen  
****Aboard _Lady Ambergris II:_**

Amber awoke with a start. In the darkness of their cabin… something was wrong. Each night as she'd gone to sleep… she'd familiarized herself with her sense of where the others were… where they should be… and where they shouldn't be. As at the mission… she'd found a way to secure the door despite Derrick's laughter at her precautions.

She'd laughed back teasingly as she'd joined him in the bunk, "Deal with it," and then she'd kissed him passionately and the on-going disagreement was forgotten.

Now her eyes opened suddenly and she struggled to sense what it was that had awakened her. She scrambled with a cry from the bunk; neatly grabbing her cutlass as she struggled with the barricade she'd built.

Almost as instantly, Derrick was at her side, pulling it away from the door.

"Stay here!" she yelled as she raced into the dark passageway. She could sense someone just ahead.

But Derrick pulled her back. "It's all right, Amber. It's only Caspar." He pushed her against the plank walls and then passed her by. He was unarmed.

"Damn!" she snarled and followed him. As she came up on deck she saw Wingate and Derrick talking. Wingate stared at her… or more precisely at her sword and stepped back from Derrick.

"Calm down!" Derrick shouted at her and then turned to Wingate. "What did you see?"

"I'm not certain. But something's out there. That's why I shut the engines off and came for you."

"Show me," Derrick said as he motioned for Wingate to lead the way. Once the three of them were on deck, Wingate grabbed a spotlight and shown it out over the water. "I can't quite make it out," he said. "But it's moving."

Derrick angled the spotlight slightly and then cleared his throat. "It's a submerged chunk of ice. Not much above the water level."

"Big enough to do us some damage?" Wingate asked.

Derrick nodded as he swept the spotlight about in the water. "Didn't it show up on the radar?"

Wingate shrugged. "Yeah… well something did. I just didn't know what it was."

Derrick nodded. "There's another one," he said. "Tell you what, Caspar. Go on to bed. I'll take the watch tonight. I don't think even anchoring here would be safe."

"We'd go down like the **_Titanic_**?" Wingate snorted.

Derrick nodded. "Yes… we would indeed."

Wingate sniffed a bit as he turned to leave. "I wasn't on it. I just heard about it. Were you there, Amber?"

"No," she replied.

"My sister was," Derrick offered as he turned the spot off and headed for the pilothouse. He paused and shuddered slightly.

Amber thought he was cold. "You need warmer clothing."

"I'm fine. I just… " He shook his head as he started the engines. When they were running once more, he set a course and steered expertly between the bergs that he saw reflected on the radar.

By this time Wingate had gone below. Derrick looked so preoccupied, Amber feared to leave him. "What's wrong?" she finally asked.

He glanced up at her. "Nothing… just thinking about the **_Titanic_**."

"She went down on it… didn't she."

Derrick settled into the captain's chair and nodded. "She was in second class… but went below to help those in steerage. She was trapped. She once mentioned it when I was studying about the disaster."

"And ya can visualize what happened," Amber said gently laying a hand on his shoulder.

"To some extent… except…" his voice trailed off.

"What?"

"At the time she told me… I remembered the event… but from another perspective. You recall I mentioned to you that growing up I sometimes had memories that might have belonged to Darius?"

Amber nodded.

"This was one of his. I'd forgotten it until Caspar mentioned the **_Titanic_**. Then it all came back to me."

"Hearing of the disaster?"

Derrick nodded. "And knowing she was aboard… and likely dead… He was frantic… and fearful that she was lost forever."

Amber glanced out over the dark ocean. "Odd that would be a memory ya'd have."

"He always worried about her." Derrick laughed. "I worried about her," he added brightly, "but she was always the strong one."

"I'd like to meet her someday."

"Maybe you will." He rubbed his bare arms and shivered.

Amber kissed his cheek. "I'm getting ya some warmer clothes. Here." She held out her cutlass. "Humor me."

Derrick took it and laid it on the map table without comment.

A few moments later, Amber returned to the cabin to pull on warmer clothes before grabbing his to carry up to him. She considered grabbing his sword from under the bunk where he usually kept it, but she doubted he'd want to keep it with him… instead she grabbed a knife and stuck it into her waistband. Thus armed… she returned above.

Derrick seemed lost in thought when she returned. Amber laid the clothes on the table and reached up to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes. She laughed as she knotted her fingers into it. "Yar hair's growing," she said and tugged at it. "In a fight an opponent could grab hold."

Almost immediately Derrick thrust out with one arm and chopped down on her arm… swiftly turning her about and forcing her down onto the map table. He snatched the cutlass up and raised it over neck. Then he froze.

"Derrick!" she cried out. "It's only me!"

The young immortal focused on her and stepped back… dropping his arm and releasing her. He looked at the cutlass and tossed it back on the table muttering, "Sorry."

"What was that about?" she said angrily. She nearly picked up the cutlass to run him through.

"From shortly after he became immortal, Darius always kept his hair short for the very reason you mentioned. He didn't want an opponent to have a handhold on him in battle. He didn't have a beard, either."

"I didn't know that."

"No reason you should. Later… when he was a priest… it was for other reasons." Derrick shook his head ruefully. "I really am sorry. I was still recalling what little I do remember from his memories when you pulled my hair. Instinct took over."

"As well it should!" she barked. "Immortals exist to kill one another!"

Glaring at her, Derrick roughly pulled on the sweater and long pants and slipped into the deck shoes before resuming his position behind the wheel.

"I'll stay up with ya," she offered, trying to make peace again and erase the events of the past few moments.

"No… there could be more bergs. I can sleep tomorrow when there's daylight. You go on to sleep." Derrick looked at her sadly as if he too regretted his actions… as if they were a part of him that he held tightly under control.

"Nonsense," Amber said leaning against the console. "I'll keep ya company."

"There's no need."

"But I want to."

"But you need to sleep. You can watch tomorrow while I sleep."

Amber snorted as she crossed her arms. "Yar a stubborn man."

Derrick chuckled.

"… and a most peculiar immortal. This whole trip is crazy… ya do know that, don't ya? Immortals kill one another. It's just the way it is. We're on this ship in the middle of the ocean with four other immortals… any one of which could suddenly turn and kill the rest of us."

"Would you kill me?"

Amber sighed. "My teacher once said I should never care too deeply about another immortal… because one day… we might have to fight. If I cared… I might hesitate."

"And do you care?" he asked curiously.

Amber shifted position uncomfortably as she laid the knife on the table and met his questioning gaze. "Yes."

"But you don't believe the others do."

"No."

"Then you should continue to be vigilant." He turned to gaze out over the dark water… his face thoughtful.

"What are ya trying to do?"

Derrick shrugged. "Why do I have to be doing something? Can't I just want to show you and the others the ocean? Take a trip? Travel?"

"But it doesn't make sense!"

"Ah… but all of you except perhaps Michelle have lived for many lives. You've had chances to see the world and all the places you've ever dreamed of. Yet… I rather think that in my one life… I've gone more places and seen more wonders than all of you put together."

Amber snorted. "Some of us had to keep an eye out for headhunters. It was more about surviving."

Derrick began to laugh. "You sound like Adam."

"Your brother-in-law or whatever he was?"

Derrick nodded and let out a great chuckle. "He said he spent decades sometimes hiding in monasteries or schools or libraries… any place he didn't figure other immortals would happen on. Said he did a lot of reading over the years. He once said that survival is the name of the game."

"He's right, ya know."

"Is he? Sometimes I wonder." Derrick smiled. "Get some sleep."

Amber let out a deep sigh and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I really worry about ya" Nevertheless, she returned to their cabin. But she didn't sleep… at least not deeply… nor very well.

-----

**Niebos:**

Eleanor braided her hair and tied off the end with a band, then threw it over her shoulder as she stepped out onto the veranda of the villa. Above her, the clouds puffed like cotton balls as they drifted across the bright blue sky. In the distance, she could see fishing boats in the Aegean and nearby could hear the sounds of workers singing in the vineyards. It was another day in paradise.

She hugged herself as she thought of the mental encounter that she and Methos had experienced last night. She was missing him terribly… and found that oddly reassuring. In previous centuries when they were parted for periods of time… she sometimes had not given him a thought while she plunged into a new life… or visited with friends in an old one. But since their bonding nearly twenty years ago, things had changed. He was with her constantly… usually only a presence quietly looking over her shoulder sometimes… or a gentle laugh when she did something wrong… as she was in his life. It had taken them a long time to reach this point… and she was content in the knowledge that he would always be a part of her… no matter what.

He was asleep now on the far side of the world… and she let him sleep. She had work to do. Waving at Phillip, she joined him on the terrace where he took breakfast and curled onto a chaise with a cup of steaming coffee. "What's up?" Eleanor asked as he scanned his PPC likely reading news headlines.

"War and rumors of war," he said with a shrug. "Same ole… same ole." Then he chuckled slightly. "You look well rested," he smirked.

"Mmmm…" Eleanor said easily and winked as she drew her legs up under her and leaned back carefully. "The advantages of bonding. Even when we're apart… we're not."

Phillip snorted. "I like my privacy… thank you very much."

"So did I once." she stuck her tongue out at him and then sobered slightly…pushing the imp deep within her as Denara and Marianna came racing out onto to the terrace. She lifted her daughter into her lap and focused on her story. Denara rolled her eyes at the excitement of the young girl as she climbed onto one of the patio chairs and filled a plate with fruit and breakfast pastries. Eleanor smiled to herself. She knew that despite her bored looks to the contrary… there were times that Denara liked having someone her own size around… even if that someone really were just four years old.

Later, Eleanor made rounds in the clinic. The immortals remained as they had been, although Eleanor continued to see spikes in some of the brain wave patterns that suggested that some of them might finally be returning to themselves. She circled Kenny's with a red marker. "His are happening more and more frequently and at a higher level," she told Greg Powers.

Greg nodded. He had a special interest in the boy. Like John, he'd taken the mind of one of their own while in the dream-state. It made sense that Kenny might be the next to return to them. Greg wondered though how well the predatory boyman would take accept his place in the new immortal world. "The more I've studied him and his past, the more worried I get," Greg said.

"True," Eleanor said as she re-hung the chart on the foot of Kenny's bed. "It seems he took the game very seriously." They wandered on down the ward, chatting pleasantly.

-----

Kenny had heard them. For once his hearing had been able to focus on the voices he heard outside the well in which he was imprisoned. The boy considered what he'd heard. The well was dream… not real. The male voice had stolen his quickening or his mind somehow. The female thought he'd awaken soon. Kenny balled a fist and slammed it into the rocks. Pain flared in his hand as the bones broke and his skin was torn by the sharp edge of the rock. He stared at his hand. Quickening flared across the rents in his flesh until his skin was once more whole and healed. He flexed his hand, grunting as the bones healed and slipped back into place. It hurt. But it proved one thing. He was alive. He was still immortal. And there was a world waiting out there for him. All he had to do… was find a way out.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Kenny tried again to climb the slippery wet stones of the well. Once there had been someone here with him… but he needed no one. He could do this on his own. And once he found the way out… he'd kill them all… all the immortals who'd trapped him here. He would take their heads, and absorb their quickening. After all… in the end there could be only one… and he wanted to be the one.

-----

J. D. ran barefoot through the surf in the wake of Chou and Denis. "We're not supposed to be out here," he called out.

"Do you always do what you're told to do," Chou laughed as he splashed through the water. He followed Denis onto a ledge of rock and the two of them knelt in the water as they pointed into the deeper area off to one side.

J. D. joined them. "What is that?" he asked as he saw what looked like rings and a chain in the deeper water.

Denis punched Chou and shook his head with a warning.

Chou shrugged. "It's one of us. A bad one. Phillip keeps her chained up down there. We're not supposed to know."

J. D. whistled. "Is she dead?"

Chou nodded. "For the moment."

J. D. leaned closer to the water and tried to make out details. He nearly fell in when Chou pushed him with a laugh. "Hey! Not funny!"

Collapsing in the surf, Chou rolled in the splashing waves as he held his sides and crowed with delight. Time had dulled his understanding and fear of Nestor. To him, it was just poor Valeraine trapped down there until Phillip saw fit to release her. He'd noted that Phillip came out here every day and had waited until he was busy at low tide one day to check out the bay and its ledge of rock. When he'd seen the chains and felt the immortal presence in the water… a cold almost slimy presence that almost seemed to freeze his soul, he'd figured out that it was here that Phillip had hidden the possessed Valeraine. He'd told Denis… and now they told J.D.

Chou realized that the big immortals likely preferred that the small ones not know exactly where Valeraine was hidden… but it wasn't as if they would release her. They just weren't really frightened of her. She was Valeraine… one of them. She'd never hurt them.

J. D.'s aura of potential immortality remained a secret among the two child immortals. Methos, Phillip, Eleanor, and the others had sworn them to secrecy and warned them to keep an eye on the boy whenever they were off with him.

"It's important he lives to grow up," Phillip had said. "He may be different from the rest of us. That's something we still have to discover."

"You mean he might die and not come back?" Chou had asked.

Phillip had nodded. "Or he might die and still continue to age. Until we know more about the differences of both him and his sister… it's best to let them grow up."

"Alisaunne came back," Denis had commented.

Phillip had shrugged. "But she is…" the swordmaster had paused. "… not quite right. It's best to wait. Promise now lads. It's important."

So they'd promised to watch over J. D. But as Phillip didn't know they knew about Valeraine's watery grave, they hadn't promise not to tell him about that.

"Tide's coming in," Denis said as he stood up. "We best get back."

The three boys started back to the shore. J. D. cast another look behind him at the rock ledge and the water beyond. He'd have to come back here another day when he was alone and explore. He wanted a better look at the body chained in the water. Then Chou called out for him not to dawdle. J. D. sped up to join his friends.

-----


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen  
****Northern France:**

Arriving first at Methos' manor house in Normandy, Duncan used his key to let himself in after letting the caretaker know he'd be using the place for a while. He wandered through the house, pulling off the dustsheets and opening windows for fresh air as he checked on things. While there were food supplies in the cupboards… and meat in the huge walk-in freezer… there was nothing fresh.

He decided to run to the market and get some things. He'd have a nice dinner prepared for the others by the time they arrived. Besides… Duncan wanted to stay busy. If he stopped too long… he began second guessing his course of action. Part of him wanted to contact Methos or Phillip and tell them what he was planning. But what if they told him to wait? Neither Kate nor Alistair knew about Niebos… and he rather doubted it would be approved for him to bring them there. No… this was best done here and now… and then he could tell the others. Once it was done… it was done.

After returning from the market, his arms laden with produce and some fresh meat for dinner, he stowed his purchases and then checked out the chapel.

Hidden deep within the house… on a sub-level… there was a small stone chapel that seemed to pre-date the seventeenth century manor house. It may well have been part of an earlier structure. Methos hadn't known. After all, he'd won the place in a card game centuries later. It was just one of many properties he'd acquired over his long lifetime. It was just another safe house where he could go when he needed to change identities. He'd never really lived here for any length of time.

Duncan moved the four _prie dieux_ ranged about the stone altar away from the center of the small round room so that there would be space for the three of them. He laid a stack of blankets and pillows before the altar, feeling slightly uneasy about choosing an actual church for this. But he couldn't see doing it in a cemetery… nor… he thought with a chuckle… would Kate appreciate that. But holy ground would likely be necessary… for his safety… for Alistair's… and for Kate's.

He settled a basket with some foodstuffs off to one side, not knowing how long it would take, but wanting them to be safe here until it was accomplished. He'd added a bottle of wine, two glasses, and some chocolates to the bread, caviar and fruit. Then he checked the lock on the stout steel door that Methos had added in the last century. It could be locked from the inside… not the outside. Methos had planned it as a safe haven in the event of discovery by another immortal. It was a bolthole. They could lock themselves in, if they wished… and know that they would be safe.

Satisfied that he had made all the preliminary arrangements, he climbed the stairs to the main level to prepare dinner. Meanwhile, he kept going over the explanation he'd need to give them in his mind, mentally ticking off all the important points that he needed to cover. It was dark by the time the headlights from a vehicle flashed over the windows.

Duncan let out a long breath, wiped his damp hands on a towel, took a sip of his wine, and went to greet his guests.

-----

After taking their bags up to one of the bedrooms, and freshening up, Kate and Alistair joined Duncan in the formal dining room. He'd set three places gathered at one end of the long table and had lit some candles, as well as dimming the lights from the chandelier. He opened a bottle of wine and began pouring some into their glasses.

"Nice digs," Alistair said with a sniff.

"Yes… it's a lovely house. I take it Amanda is not joining us for dinner?" Kate added as she slid into one chair. Alistair held and then pushed in her chair before taking the one on the far side of the table.

Duncan settled into the one at the head of the table, and began to serve the stir-fry. "I hope you like Oriental," he said.

"It's fine," Kate said flatly. "But I doubt eating stir-fry is something that will give me what I want."

"No…" Duncan chuckled, "it won't. But a good meal will make what I have to explain to you go down a little easier."

Kate eyed him curiously. She lifted a fork and began to move the food around on her plate.

"Eat Kate," Duncan said softly.

She glared at him momentarily as if his urging her to eat was a jab at her thinness. It had been one of the arguments that had broken them up twenty years ago. He wanted her to eat… and she just couldn't bring herself to. One of the things she adored about Alistair… was that he didn't criticize her… her actions… or her appearance. She glanced at him. He winked as he sipped the wine. Beneath the table she felt his foot reach out for hers and nudge it. Then he smiled.

Kate nodded and began to eat… admitting to herself that it tasted quite good.

After dinner, the three adjourned to the parlor and Duncan poured them each a brandy before settling into an easy chair. He took a deep breath. "I told you earlier it takes three immortals to make it possible for there to be a child."

Kate nodded soberly. She was seated on the edge of the sofa, eagerly hanging on every word. One hand was clasped tightly into Alistair's. Unlike her, he was sitting back, relaxed, legs crossed as he darkly eyed Duncan.

After taking a sip, he continued. "The three we call the bearer… that's always a female, the sire… a male, and a quickener… the third."

Alistair snorted. "You make it sound like a breeding program for race-horses."

"Hush," Kate snapped. "Go on Duncan. What does the quickener do?"

"He or she makes it possible for the other two to become fertile for a limited time."

Kate smiled. "When can we get started?"

"Tonight if you like."

Alistair turned back sharply. "And the necessity of holy ground? You mentioned that earlier."

Duncan set his brandy down on the table with a slight shrug. "I'm not certain it is absolutely necessary… just that it might be safer for all of us. Kate will be vulnerable… I'd hate for anything to happen to her. Besides… let's just say immortals tend to get along a little better if they can't suddenly pick up a sharp object and take each other's heads."

"You're scaring me," Kate said.

"I'm trying to. This is not something you should go into lightly. There _are_ dangers. A developing child requires quickening as it grows."

"Which I'm willing to give," Kate insisted. "Duncan. Having a child is the only thing that has ever mattered to me. I want this more than anything. And if it's possible… I'm ready."

"Kate I need to explain some things," Duncan insisted.

"Where is the holy ground on this place?" Alistair suddenly said. "Some family crypt?"

"No… there's a chapel."

"A church?"

"A family chapel… as I say… I'm not certain it needs to be done there… I just think it may be for the best."

"Like a wedding," Kate murmured softly and then stood. "Show me."

Duncan nodded as he rose, leading the way to the sub-level's chapel where Kate looked around, wide-eyed with enthusiasm. He smiled. She was taking this well.

"So? Do we disrobe?" she said almost giddy at the thought.

For a moment Duncan hesitated. This was going far too quickly. There were things he hadn't yet explained… such as the need for his continued involvement with the couple for the next year or so. And yet Kate's bright eyes… looking at him for the first time in a long time with something other than hate or hurt… made him smile. "You two will need to… but not until you're alone. I don't think I need to be."

"Good!" snapped Alistair, obviously uneasy. He put an arm possessively about Kate's shoulders as if to say "she's mine."

Duncan put his own hands behind his back as if to signify that he understood.

"What now?" Kate asked.

Duncan gazed at he for a moment and then nodded. He held out his hands to them. "We need to be touching."

Kate clasped one of his hands… but Alistair stared at the offered hand for a moment.

"All of us have to be touching… this has to be done in a circle… and we have to agree that this is what we want."

"Please Alistair," Kate pleaded. "Don't mess this up for me. It means so much."

Alistair's face softened and he touched her cheek. "For you my dear… anything." He held his free hand out toward Duncan.

Duncan closed his eyes and tried to recall what Phillip had told him… about being open and willing to help… about his desire that the three of them could manage… that they were in agreement. He dug deep within himself… offering a part of himself to them somehow. After some moments he opened an eye.

Nothing had happened. The others looked at him curiously. Holding their hands evidently wasn't enough. "Both of you have to be open and willing for this to happen. You have to declare mentally your desire for this… and your willingness to give of yourself for the sake of a child."

Kate nodded and closed her eyes… a smile played across her mouth. Alistair stared at Duncan and then glanced at Kate sadly. He seemed to know that if he failed her somehow… she'd leave him now. His hand dropped hers and reached around her back. "I'll do anything for you," he whispered as her hand reached around his back.

Taking his cue from them, Duncan dropped their hands and followed suit… embracing them both tightly. Their hands touched on his back as his touched their other hands on each other's back. His fingers laced with Kate's. On his back he could feel their hands clasped. His fingers reached for Alistair's on Kate's back and as soon as they touched… he felt it… a slight charge of quickening that seemed to crackle at each pair of hands. He focused on helping them… on giving them what was necessary. Suddenly he felt thrown back by a force of power. Quickening crackled over Kate and Alistair for a moment and then faded. Duncan felt drained.

But Kate had never looked lovelier. Despite himself he wanted her. He stepped closer. Alistair growled at him. Duncan froze. Each man looked at the other as if he was a deadly enemy. Slowly Duncan backed away. When he reached the chapel door, he paused for a moment, and then pulled the door shut. He leaned against it a moment… while he tried to clear his mind. "Amanda," he whispered… I wish you were here. This would be so much easier if you were." Slowly he turned and climbed the stairs. After pouring another brandy, he downed it quickly and then went upstairs to bed… being certain to lock the bedroom door… and to have his _katana_ nearby.

It was only as he was drifting off to sleep that he realized he'd gotten ahead of himself and forgotten to mention his on-going contribution to this arrangement for a while. Well… he couldn't go down and interrupt them. They'd be busy for some time. He'd tell them in the morning. Duncan rolled over and fell into an exhausted sleep… a sleep where he dreamed of Amanda.

-----

It was still dark when he opened an eye… uncertain of what had disturbed him. Then he realized it was his phone. Pulling it from his pocket he stared at the LED display blearily. It was Amanda. "Hey! I was thinking about you," he said.

"Liar," Amanda replied. "Listen… I wouldn't have called… but we've got a problem."

"How so?"

"I think Robert and Gina have blood-bonded."

Duncan sat straight up in the bed. "You're there?"

"Yeah… and things are not going well."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh… I think they'll kill each other before the night is out. Where are you? Can you come? I can't do this alone."

"A couple of hours away. I'll leave right now. Have you called Ellie?"

"No. What can she do tonight? Right now I need help keeping these two apart. You're closest."

"I'm on my way." Duncan was on his feet, slipping into his boots and grabbing a jacket. He turned off the phone as he raced down the stairs. Pausing at the hallway to the back stairs he could still feel them in the chapel. Likely they'd be consumed with this for some time. He wished he could secure the door… but the lock was inside. He'd call them later after he got to the de Valicourt _chateau_. His mind made up… Duncan raced out to his car and drove off.

-----

**_Chateau _de Valicourt:**

As Amanda rang off, she sighed as she listened to the crashing of something breakable against the wall. What had started as a lovely day had gradually degenerated as the two lovebirds had begun sniping at one another. Robert kept making snide remarks about Duncan… and Gina made a few about men in general and their inability to keep it in their pants. Then Amanda's name had been added to the list of women Robert had evidently thought of.

He'd held Gina off of Amanda as she'd raced for her room. The Watcher, Madeline, had also decided to make herself scarce. Evidently Gina was threatening her as well. Things had quieted down for a bit so Amanda had tiptoed down to the kitchen to get something to eat.

She'd found Madeline there as well.

"They certainly are a volatile couple," the young Watcher said.

Amanda shivered slightly. Other than Joe, she still didn't feel comfortable around the Watchers. She wondered just why Robert and Gina had agreed to have one in the house.

Shortly after… raised voices and the sound of steel on steel had sounded from the de Valicourts' chambers. Madeline had sat back in her chair while Amanda had risen.

"Aren't you going to help me?"

Madeline shrugged. "I'm a Watcher. I'm not supposed to get involved." She crossed her arms and legs and remained where she was.

Amanda had huffed off to prevent Robert and Gina from killing one another. It was then that she'd figured out what they'd done as she began picking up on their thrown accusations and when they started finishing each other's sentences. She recalled that Eleanor had warned her that living in one another's mind could be disconcerting unless one already knew the other's mind.

Evidently Robert and Gina had decided that since they'd been "happily" married for over three hundred years… they already knew one another well enough. In their eagerness to achieve unity… they'd managed to have a selective memory about some of the bad times. Amanda realized she couldn't do this alone… as despite her close friendship with Gina… the woman now suspected her of coming here to catch Robert's eye.

Leaving and saving her own head had admittedly crossed Amanda's mind earlier. But these were friends. If this was the future for some immortals… this could also be a cautionary tale. "Fools rush in," Amanda quoted under her breath after she managed to lock Gina in a bathroom. That's when she'd called MacLeod. Someone had to work with Robert… and it couldn't be her. Gina might take any involvement as a threat. The same could be said of Robert feeling that MacLeod was a threat… according to some of the things said. But MacLeod was a big boy… he could deal with it.

Right now… Amanda just wished he'd get here.

-----

**Fairfax County, VA:**

Ten minutes after Sarah Manning checked into her room… she noticed that her PPC was missing. She screamed a torrent of curses in several languages as she tossed items against the wall and tried vainly to remember the last time she'd used it. It had to have been before she'd gone to the airport to catch her flight east. Thankfully everything on it was encrypted and any attempt to open the files would result in their immediate erasure. Still… it was a hassle. She'd have to hit an electronics store first thing in the morning to replace it. Thankfully she still had her access code to the government sites and could re-establish links into the system. She had wanted to keep an eye on the Adams/Pierson estate via satellite, but this would delay her plans. It couldn't be helped.

She sat up late flipping through channels and watching erotic films on pay per view until she finally calmed down enough to drop off to sleep.

At first she wasn't certain why she awoke when it was obviously still dark. Raising her head… she tried to get her mind to focus on what had awakened her. She finally realized it was her phonecard. She pulled it out of her bag and stared at it… trying to recall who had her number. She shook her head. No one should have it. She let the call go into the voice-mailbox and tossed the card onto the bedside table to settle back to sleep.

Ten minutes later… the call still on her mind, she turned on the light and pulled up her voice-mail to listen to the message.

"Hi… this is Daryl… from the plane… and the airport closet." He laughed nervously. "After you left… I found your PPC on the floor. The only thing that came up on it was this phone number so I'm assuming it's you." He laughed again. "Well… if it is you… you can contact me at…" and he gave a number. "I'd really like to see you again. You rock my world baby," he said lamely… and then… "Forget I said that. Anyway… call me and I'll get your computer to you. Bye."

Sarah scooted down in the covers with a smirk. Well… she could call him tomorrow… certainly not tonight… and meet him someplace public. After that… she'd see how it went. After replacing her phonecard on the nightstand, she turned off the light and rolled over to sleep… her mind much calmer about her missing computer… and the luscious young man she could play with while waiting for Ben or his family to return home.

-----


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty  
****Niebos:**

The lights in the village below were winking out one by one. In the distance, he could still hear music and laughter at the local village _cantina_. The revelers would be heading home soon. Out to sea, a ship's horn sounded as it passed the distant shoals. He could lights moving slowly across the thin line that differentiated between the black ocean and the black sky.

Greg Powers took a drag on his cigarette and then flicked it away into the night… watching the sparks shower from it as it fell among the leafy plants and onto the damp earth. He watched a moment longer to be certain that they all went out… that there was no chance of fire… and then he gazed again at the ship moving across the face of the water.

At a footstep, he glanced behind him. So accustomed was he to immortal presence here that it barely registered on him as it would in the outside world.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Eleanor said. She leaned on the balustrade next to him and closed her eyes. "It's so beautiful out here at night."

Greg nodded with a chuckle. "I was thinking much the same thing. Where are the others?"

"Marianna's in bed sleeping. Denara quite wore her out today. Something about racing up and down the mountain."

"What about J. D.?"

"He and the other two trouble-makers are engrossed in a game of chess. I think Phillip's trying to teach them strategy."

"And chess never interested you," he teased.

"Nope… never did." She turned and leaned back, letting her hair drop behind her as she sighed audibly.

"What's his nibs up to?"

"He's on his way home. Should be here by morning."

"Here?"

Eleanor nodded. "He wants to talk with Phillip and me about what to do next."

"About finding this new immortal?" Greg shrugged when she stared at him. "I hear things. I listen. Who is he? I didn't think there were any more."

Eleanor stared back at the house for a moment and then leaned closer. "Someone who shouldn't exist… and yet does. Did you ever wonder what happened to the power of an immortal killed by mortals… when the quickening wasn't released?"

Greg nodded. "Sure! Who hasn't?"

"Darius… for instance."

Greg stared at her. He'd been around enough in the past few years to know that she'd been one of Darius' pupils at one time. One of the reasons her head count was so low, was the immortal priest's influence on her. He raised an eyebrow. "You think the boy is Darius returned to us?"

Eleanor shook her head. "No… not exactly. But I do think something of Darius' spirit lives in him… has always lived in him… even when he was a boy."

Greg contemplated the lights on the ocean. "And he may have the answers we seek… the rest of them?"

Eleanor nodded. "Or…" she chuckled, "… he may know nothing at all. But he shouldn't be out there… untrained. There are still those of us who hunt. The game goes on… despite MacLeod's efforts."

Greg shook his head. "Bad time to be born into the world. Bad time to be just starting out. The young are easy prey… always have been. Not everyone wanted to let them grow stronger… have a chance at life." His eyes glazed over a moment. "Did MacLeod ever tell you about Richie?"

Eleanor shook her head. "Methos did. He was MacLeod's student. MacLeod killed him."

"Hated himself for doing it. Then he worked through it and used it to focus his anger outward at the real culprit… that demon or whatever it was, who was testing him."

"Ahriman."

"That was it… Ahriman. A demon who rises every thousand years to test the strongest of us." Greg chuckled and shook his head.

Eleanor crossed her arms. "What of him?"

"I was just wondering who would be tested in a thousand years… providing some of us are still here."

Eleanor shook her head, whispering as she gazed toward the house, "I don't know."

Laughter arose from the garden as John and Grace approached the main house from their walk home from the hospital. Greg ran a hand through his hair and shifted uncomfortably.

"I thought you were seeing Diana, the nurse of the children's wing," Eleanor teased.

"I was," Greg replied. "I broke it off."

"Why? Surely it helped."

"She's mortal. After what I experienced with Grace and John… it just wasn't enough."

"No… I feel the same way whenever I contemplate ever being with anyone besides Methos. But you three didn't bond."

Greg shook his head. "No… but for one moment… we were in perfect agreement. For one moment my soul was laid bare and I loved them both."

"And you still do."

Greg nodded. "I didn't fully understand what Phillip warned me of when Grace first broached the subject."

"He told me. But it is necessary that I'm not the only one… that Methos and I aren't the only ones… as if we were somehow special or different. We were simply the ones who experienced it first… both the bonding… and the children."

"Now we know that even un-bonded immortals can breed… that one is not dependent upon the other."

"Yes," she murmured as she contemplated the ramifications of that.

"I just didn't realize how much it would change me… and my perceptions of life. I realize how grateful I am to MacLeod that he didn't take my head that day."

Eleanor stretched up to kiss his cheek. "We're all grateful for that. Good night Greg."

"G'night," he responded… but his thoughts were already on the approaching couple… and his anticipated time with them.

-----

**_Chateau_ de Valicourt:**

Dawn was just beginning to make its appearance as Duncan pulled into the graveled courtyard of the estate. He spun slightly as he hit the brakes and was out of the car even before it had completely stopped moving.

He was still a good three yards from the front door when he paused as something heavy went flying out of an upper story window… followed by voices raised in anger. He ducked away from the falling glass and made certain that it was only furniture… in this case… a steamer trunk that had broken open spilling its contents of silk and lace on the gravel… before continuing his desperate approach.

Just as he reached the door… it was yanked open by an attractive young woman. "Duncan MacLeod?" she said breathlessly.

He nodded as she gestured him in.

"I'll kill him!" screamed Gina's voice from upstairs. There were sounds of a struggle. Duncan gave no further thought to the young woman and bounded up the stairs… three at a time… to reach the conflict.

Pausing only momentarily as he reached it, careening through the broken door to see Amanda desperately holding on to an enraged Gina, who was trying to reach Robert. She'd exhausted all the breakables as he could see shards of glassware and porcelain littered around Robert, and was trying to find something else to throw.

When Duncan entered, Gina looked at him with a sudden smile. Instantly her shrieking became a purr of delight. "Duncan!" she said.

"Now stop that!" Robert yelled closing in on her and pointing an accusatory finger at her. Gina stopped struggling and smirked at Robert. He turned with his hands over his face and groaned.

"Duncan! Duncan! Duncan" she kept repeating… not in greeting but as a taunt. Robert turned back red-faced and with hands outstretched toward his wife's neck. "That's enough!"

Duncan threw himself into this and pushed Robert to the far side of the room. The pirate suddenly focused on him. "You want her? You can't have her!" And tried to throttle Duncan while Gina kept saying Duncan's name.

The Highlander heard the sound of a well-delivered blow and a body fall to the floor. Instantly, Robert looked over Duncan's shoulder and wailed, "Gina! My love! What have you done to her?" he accused Amanda.

Duncan took the opportunity to cold-cock Robert.

Once both lovers were unconscious, Duncan looked over at Amanda. "You weren't kidding!"

"Of course not. Did you think I called just to say I missed you?" She began dragging Gina's body down the hall and locked it in another room.

Duncan tossed Robert over his shoulder and looked about until he found a small bathroom where he tumbled the body into the tub and locked the door. Already he could hear Robert stirring.

Amanda met him on the balcony between the two wings and raced into his arms. He hugged her tightly… he'd missed her last night… he'd missed her all day yesterday. Tipping her chin up… he told her so and kissed her passionately.

At first she responded and then struggled and pushed him away. "We don't have time for that!" she snapped.

"They're locked up," he protested. "Besides… I missed you."

"You don't understand," Amanda explained. "I keep locking them up and they keep breaking out. Sometimes they're all smoochy and then one of them apparently has a stray thought and they're at each other's necks again."

"Oh," Duncan nodded.

"I think they bonded. I can't call Methos because he's on the road and Eleanor has to stay with…" her voice trailed off as she stepped back and smiled at the young woman. Duncan turned when he saw her and smiled in appreciation.

"Madeline," Amanda was saying. "I really think you need to leave like the servants did."

Madeline shook her head. "I'm their Watcher. I'd heard they fought often by always made up… but is this normal?" She shifted slightly as she stopped so that Duncan got a good look at her trim form and well-developed assets. He rolled his eyes. "Let me guess… Robert appreciated her looks and Gina went wild."

"That pretty much sums it up," Amanda replied. "And now… Gina is obviously repaying the thoughts by fantasizing rather forcefully about you."

"We never… I mean… I wanted to… but so did Fitz… and it just wasn't proper in that day… and then she met Robert…" Duncan's protests dropped sputteringly from his mouth.

"I know," Amanda said touching his cheek. "You told me… Remember?"

"Aye."

"So what is going on with them?" Madeline asked.

"Just the usual," Amanda tried to explain, turning her attention from Duncan to the young Watcher. "Really. You should leave for a few days."

"I can't. This is a plum assignment to be asked into a home and to be able to interview subjects… immortals… about their past and fill in gaps. It's part of our new policy. If I blow this, I'll be stuck in research."

Amanda looked pleadingly at Duncan, who getting the gist of the problem, slipped an arm into Madeline's and escorted her down the stairs.

"No one is accusing you of falling down on the job. It's just… we need to get them settled down and your presence keeps stirring things up."

"Why?"

"You are an extremely attractive young woman, Madeline. Surely you're aware of that?" Duncan grasped one of her hands… lifted it to his lips and kissed it while gazing at her warmly.

Blushing, Madeline grinned and tossed her hair. Her lips parted briefly and she smiled at Duncan in invitation. "Really?"

_Oh brother_, he thought. _No wonder Gina is after Robert!_ He glanced back at the amused Amanda leaning on the balcony rail and smirking at them both. "Just go into town for a while. We'll let you know when they've calmed down enough for you to return."

Madeline pouted. Her lower lip protruded. "But I'm supposed to watch and record."

"But not interfere. Yes… I know, Madeline. But right now your presence here is interfering. They just need time to calm down."

The Watcher sighed. "I'll gather my things."

Duncan grabbed her arm again and pushed her through the now open door. "I'll send whatever you need." He slammed the door and threw the bolt… collapsing against it with a loud "_Whew_!"

"I see you understand the problem perfectly," Amanda laughed. He glared at her and then looked up. He could hear Robert banging on the door rather heavily. "Gina! Gina! I'm coming my darling!"

"So what next?" Duncan asked.

"We have to stop her thinking of you and him thinking of Madeline or me… and get them to understand fleeting thoughts."

"They knew not to do this!" Duncan thundered.

"They've been married and together for three hundred years… I suppose they thought they knew what they were doing." Amanda threw up her hands as she descended the stairs.

Duncan met her halfway. "Do you suppose Eleanor or Methos told them what to do?"

"I doubt it. But they're both clever… they may have just figured it out."

Duncan looked up from one wing to the other and sighed. "Do you suppose something like this is what started the killing in the first place?"

"Maybe," Amanda laid her head on his chest. "I'm just glad you could come… that you and Kate hadn't begun your other little project. I don't think I can manage this alone."

Duncan's heart sank. "As a matter of fact…" he began.

"You didn't!" protested Amanda. "Already? Gods Duncan… you have to be with her!"

"I know. There's still time… but I have to get back."

Amanda broke free and paced. "I'll call Eleanor later. You head back to Kate and I'll catch some sleep while the lovebirds are separated."

"Amanda…" Duncan pleaded.

"No… go… I'm sorry I called you." She regally climbed the stairs. "I'm tired right now and I need to sleep."

"Kate's not a threat to you… or us," Duncan called after her.

"It's not Kate that's the threat Duncan," Amanda said pausing and looking down on him sadly. "You have other obligations now and I accept that." She shrugged. "But it doesn't mean I have to like it. It's my problem… and I'll deal with it."

From above, Gina's voice calling for Robert had joined his.

"And I will deal with them," Amanda said looking upward and smiling. "I just have to keep them apart. Now who else is in the area that I could call? I need someone who knows what's going on?" Amanda turned and thoughtfully continued ascending the stairs.

Duncan felt torn. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to help his friends… yet already he was feeling the need and the compulsion to be elsewhere. Kate would need him even more. Amanda could cope with this now that both were locked up. At least he hoped so. "Amanda!" he called out warmly. She turned and he gestured with a nod as he turned to leave. _Never say goodbye_, he thought as he left. _Never say goodbye._

-----


	22. Chapter TwentyOne

**Chapter Twenty-One  
****Niebos**

Leaning on the rail of the island ferry as it slowed for its approach, Methos could almost make out the form on the docks waiting for him. He grinned in anticipation. It had been a long journey even with the high-altitude hop flights they'd taken to get here. Part of the problem had been passports.

While he had several and could keep altering his identity… Jayne had only the one. He had to hope that no matter how good Sarah Manning was… she didn't know Jayne's name. Still… a hop from Seacouver down to Los Angeles and then a high altitude one to Hong Kong, followed by another to New Delhi and a third to Athens had been draining. The high flights were quick… but too many in a row in the space of twenty-four hours could be devastating physically. Jayne, he knew, was exhausted. The ferry ride had taken longer than some of the flights… but it had been worth it.

He glanced over at the Watcher, curled on a bench beneath his spare coat and sleeping soundly. She'd be fine… although she'd likely want to sleep for the next twenty-four hours. His own plans… and he grinned at the thought of the woman waiting for him… did not involve sleep… at least not immediately.

As the ferry eased alongside the wharf and workers moved to secure it, Methos leaned over Jayne and roused her gently. "We're here," he said softly. The young woman nodded sleepily and stretched slightly as she yawned and murmured that she was awake. By this time, the gangway had been lowered. Methos turned and eagerly descended amongst the handful of tourists. As they left the boat, another handful of locals climbed aboard for their trip to the mainland. All Methos saw at this moment was Eleanor… with a sleepy Marianna in her arms.

The little girl blinked at him when Eleanor whispered something to her. "Daddy!" she cried and reached out her small arms toward him.

Methos lifted her and at the same time managed to give Eleanor a long kiss before the little girl in his arms demanded his attention.

"Daddy, I been good. _Opa_ gave me a new doll. Denara and I play dolls everyday. She beheads hers."

"Does she?" Methos grinned, considering the old-in-years Denara reduced to playing dolls with an actual four-year-old.

Eleanor grinned with a shrug. "Denara's been baby-sitting some."

"Not baby-sitting," protested Marianna folding her arms. "Not a baby! We're friends."

"Of course you are, Precious," Methos said holding Marianna before him and feeling her small legs settle around his waist and her arms reach to hold his neck. He grinned at her and gave her a raspberry kiss on her neck.

She giggled. "Stop it Daddy! That tickles."

Behind him, Methos heard Jayne approaching. She was still wrapped in his spare coat and looked about bleary-eyed. "Please tell me we're really here."

"Jayne!" whooped Marianna.

"Jayne will be staying here for a while, Precious."

"Goody… we can play." She wriggled free and clasped one of Jayne's hands. "Wait 'til you meet Denara. She can play too."

Jayne glanced at Methos as she was being led away. "Denara?" she mouthed.

"Just follow Marianna up the hill to the villa. Keep an eye on her," Methos laughed as he clasped Eleanor to him and kissed her again. She felt real in his arms and he had to admit… real was even better than dreams. He raised her up in his arms as she took his full attention. He felt her arms go about his neck and finger the small scars of the unity bond. Instantly he wanted her. He groaned and pulled back looking about. "I don't want to wait."

"Well," she laughed and he heard the tinkling bells in her laughter, "we could always scandalize the populace and get it on right here."

"Don't think I haven't considered that, imp," he chuckled as he let her slide down until her feet once more touched the ground. She leaned into him and giggled. "I missed you," he said.

She made no reply. When he looked at her face, she was biting her lip. Then she met his gaze as if to reassure him. "I missed you, too." For a moment he wanted to curse Darius for having so completely stolen that line, that every time he used it… she thought of their dead friend.

"I love you," Eleanor said as she stood on tiptoe and bent his head down for another kiss. When she broke it she winked at him. "So… to the villa? I've made arrangements for Denara to watch Marianna the rest of the day and she even offered to let her sleep over in her room tonight… or… do you want to get a room at the inn?"

"Hmmm… so no interruptions either way," he smirked as he shifted her to one side and gestured to the hill path. "Let's go to the villa. I don't want to have to get up and move again for weeks."

"Well I said overnight… not weeks," she laughed. "Besides… I have to work tomorrow."

"At the hospital?"

"Mmm… I think Kenny will be re-joining us soon. All the signs are there as they were with Carl."

"I'm not certain I want you anywhere near that immortal when he awakens. He's predatory."

"Yes… but I know him, and Grace doesn't. Besides I don't want to put either her or her baby at risk."

"What about Powers? Can't he handle it?"

"Probably, but Kenny might recall Greg from the dreamscape and be out for his head."

"I suppose I could help," he grumbled.

"Dr. Adams to the rescue. Yes," she laughed, "that would certainly put Kenny in his place."

He laughed and sped up. Eleanor was stumbling to keep up with him so he swept her up into his arms where she laughed merrily and kicked her feet up and down. Oh yes… this was much better than long-distance already.

-----

**Northern France:**

It was already mid-day by the time Duncan pulled up before the manor house. Stepping out of the car, he realized he could not sense the others. Slamming the door, he paused and looked around before racing into the house. Perhaps they were still below?

The door to the sub-level chapel was open… and the chapel itself was empty. He noted the carefully folded blankets and the re-packed basket… sans foodstuffs. The two champagne glasses had been shattered against one of the walls. Evidently Kate and Alistair had had quite the party.

Worried, Duncan headed to the upstairs bedrooms. Other than the disturbed linens on his, and his bag still open on a chest, there was nothing. The lovers had not settled into a bedroom, nor were their belongings still here.

Duncan leaned against a wall and tried to think… but the only clear thought in his mind was that in his hurry to do what Kate wanted… he might have destroyed her. Guilt lay heavy on his shoulders as he descended the stairs. He had to find them… and for that… he might need the Watchers. Joe would likely read him the riot act… but he would help… he had to.

On the mantel in the drawing room, he saw a cream envelope resting against an antique anniversary clock. Striding across the room, he ripped into it, noting his name, written with Kate's distinctive flourish on the outside.

_Duncan,_

_I cannot begin to thank you for this gift. I had hoped to thank you in person this morning, but as you are gone, I leave you this instead. Alistair feels it might be best if we moved on now. I rather think he's a bit jealous of you, but I fail to see why. What was between you and me was over with long ago. We tried to recapture it after Kell died, but we both knew that there had been too much time and too much hurt for us to ever be together._

_Again, my thanks,_

_Kate_

Duncan crumpled the note in his hand. He'd held out one last hope that they might have told him where they were going. All of his frustration welled up in him and he let out a great cry. He'd wanted this so badly… that he'd let himself become involved despite his fears about whether Kate was fully ready and prepared for what might happen. He'd assured himself that he would be able to remain at her side and support her in the time to come. He wanted a child… likely almost as badly as she did… and he'd let his desires blind him in regard to what he should have done.

Now… Kate was likely in danger… and would have no idea that she was.

Angrily he picked up a chair and crashed it against the fireplace until it was little more than sticks. Even then, he wanted to tear something apart.

How long he sat there fuming… he wasn't certain. Finally, he rose, grabbed his things from upstairs, and left. He'd contact the caretaker later about the damage and the foodstuffs… but for right now… he needed to be doing something… anything.

-----

**Northern Pacific:**

The storm came up out of the south… and the thunderheads built hour by hour. Below decks, Michele extinguished the cooking fires. "No help for it," she said with a shrug. "When it's this rough… there's no way to cook."

David laughed ruefully. "Yeah… the one day hot coffee and hot soup would be nice to have… and it's not possible." He blew on his hands, and then thrust them into his jacket pockets as he made an attempt to stay warm. The ship listed to one side and Michelle came reeling toward him. David caught her with a laugh and pulled her onto his lap. "Of course there are other ways to stay warm," he teased as he kissed her. Michelle returned his kiss, her hands about his neck.

Feeling like a _voyeur_ suddenly, Amber pulled on her gloves to head up on deck. Sometimes the close quarters of the small ship and the lack of privacy really got to her. Each of them likely knew everything the others did. Her immortal senses kept pushing the alarm button, and she feared this trip might yet end in disaster. In the corridor… she passed Wingate. Just as she passed him, the boat rocked again slamming her into Wingate. His arms went around her shoulders… and he held her even after the ship righted… his brown eyes staring into hers.

Amber pushed free. "Touch me again, me _boyo_, an' I'll have yar head," she snarled at him. Wingate's eyes widened as he stumbled back against the bulkhead… her small knife protruding slightly from his midsection. He burbled blood as she pulled it free and made her way on deck. She wanted to have another talk with Derrick.

She found him intently steering the ship into the wind so that it sliced through the waves crashing on deck. Pulling the pilothouse door behind her, she roared over the sound of the storm. "We've got to get off this ship!"

"It's not that bad a storm," Derrick protested. "The ship can weather it."

"I'm not talkin' about the bleedin' storm!"

Derrick met her gaze quizzically and then refocused on their direction, swiftly and expertly turning the wheel. "I can't talk about that now," he finally said.

"Ya better or someone is gonna be dead soon."

Derrick's shoulders sagged. "What is it this time," he finally yelled.

"Wingate… your pet project. I don't trust him."

"Have you ever?"

"No… and I'm not likely to." She slouched against the console and folded her arms across her chest. "He grabbed me."

Derrick raised an eyebrow and she thought she saw the corners of his mouth curve up slightly. "And?" he said with a hint of humor.

Amber shrugged. "I told him to keep his mitts off."

Derrick turned the wheel again and the ship rose sharply against a wave. Amber staggered to one side, swiftly grasping the console to keep from falling.

"And the circumstances of this grabbing?" Derrick continued evenly.

Amber glared. Finally she gave in. "Oh all right. I stumbled into him… but he didn't have to hold on and look at me that way. I tell ya… we got to make port soon or someone will die."

Derrick sighed. "Perhaps you're right. I'll have a talk with him later… after the storm."

"That's all I ask," Amber finally admitted. Things had been strained between the two of them since he'd nearly taken her head… and everyone on board likely knew it. If Derrick retired to the cabin to sleep at all, it was while she was on deck. If she came below to join him… he rose and left. Amber had to admit to herself that the incident had apparently disturbed him even more than it had her.

"If that's all… you should go below," he said curtly.

"I don't blame ya… ya got to know that," she said. But Derrick made no reply, merely concentrated on the path the ship needed to take through the crashing waves and torrential rain.

Angrily, and with tears stinging her eyes, Amber stormed out of the pilothouse and made her way along the slick deck. A fine sheen of ice was building up on the deck and even her deck shoes slid slightly across the surface.

"Damn him!" she hissed. Connor had been right! It was better not to care about another immortal. It was better never to allow yourself to love one. Immortals killed other immortals! It was the way of it!

The ship lurched and Amber grabbed at the railing as her feet slid out from under her. When the ship lurched again, she lost her grip and went sliding across the deck. The next moment… she found herself flung into the air. As she came down… a wave crashed over the deck. When it receded… it took her with it.

Amber Conroy found herself sinking into the depths of the tempest-tossed ocean. She kicked strongly… trying to reach the surface… and gasped for air. Salt water entered her lungs and she spasmed… feeling as she began to lose consciousness… that someone had her hand.

-----

She came to in the cabin. Michelle had stripped off Amber's wet clothes and wrapped her in several blankets. She sat there toweling Amber's hair. "There you are. You're back."

Amber coughed deeply… still tasting the briny water. She shivered uncontrollably.

"You were lucky. Caspar saw you go over. He dived in after you."

Puzzled, Amber tried to shake her head. "Wingate?"

Michelle pushed Amber's wet hair off of her face. "He was on his way topside to see if he could help Derrick when he saw you washed overboard."

"Derrick? I thought he…?"

"Derrick's got his hands full with the storm. If we founder… we'll all be walking to shore." Michelle grinned with a tease. She glanced up as Burke came in with something hot in a cup.

"How did you manage it?" Michelle asked him.

Burke shrugged. "Hot plate!" He handed the cocoa to Amber. "Good?"

Amber nodded as she sipped, her teeth chattering against the mug. Her hands shook so badly that Michelle eased the cup free of them and held it for her to sip.

"There now… We'll manage together. You just relax."

"Is Wingate all right?"

"Far as I know. He went to his cabin to change into dry clothes. Course… then he'll head topside again and be all wet."

"Where's David?"

"Helping Derrick."

Amber pulled the blankets closer as she continued to shiver, aware that it wasn't just the cold that was causing this. Her feelings were in an uproar. "I need to see him," she finally chattered.

"Derrick? He'll be by later… after the storm."

Amber shook her head. "Wingate. I need to thank him."

"Later Amber. Right now… you need to let yourself sleep."

Amber nodded. She did feel sleepy. The cocoa had something in it. She knew that now. Amber Conroy closed her eyes… and drifted off.

-----


	23. Chapter TwentyTwo

**Chapter Twenty-Two  
****Niebos:**

A warm breeze filtered into the room, so that a few strands of Eleanor's black hair fluttered before it. She lay entangled in his arms and legs… eyes closed with a smile across her face. Methos slowly ran one hand down her side and laughed as she rubbed her leg across his. For a moment… the unity flared and they shared a memory of a the past… then it faded.

Methos pondered again that he had fought against this for so long… the idea that two immortals could share a life so completely, that each knew the deepest secrets of the other. Perhaps his reluctance was his not wanting anyone to ever know the things he'd done in his long past… the man he'd been. But the man he now was… grew from that other time… and Eleanor knew each of them… and embraced them both.

He found it comforting that his memories of his life lived in her… as hers did in him. In the years since they'd performed the bond… they'd come to know one another intimately. Yet even now, if the symbols joined in their lovemaking in a new way… they still found forgotten memories. It was harder for her than it should have been… his long life likely the reason… and yet she explored them all with a fascination that astounded him. In many ways, she still reminded him of that shy and frightened child he'd first known… and the blossoming young woman who chose to marry him… a stranger… and then had insisted on a proper marriage… not one in name only.

When had he first known he loved her? Was it a day so like today, when he'd gazed on her and seen that time was carrying her away. If he could return to that day… what would he have done differently?

Eleanor laughed. "Strange thoughts."

"Am I so much an open book?"

She sighed and rolled over so that her back curled into his chest and his arms surrounded her… embracing her… protecting her. He kissed her neck… feeling a thrill go through him.

"Only to me… and only because you allow it," she whispered with a giggle.

"Keep my secrets," he whispered back.

"Trust me," she laughed.

He pulled her close and continued to run one hand lightly over her side… tracing patterns as he'd always done… letting out sharp little breaths of surprise when one of them touched one of the placed patterns so that he stood behind her as she mid-wifed… or danced… or raced barefoot through a field just for the sheer joy of it. Had he ever raced for joy through a field? Had he ever laughed aloud just to hear the sound of it… or observed some moment of nature in the knowledge that it would never come again?

"All I give you is cynicism, despair, and darkness. Yet you make my world sing," he said with a contented sigh.

"And you show me the panorama of civilization that I could never have appreciated otherwise."

He laughed, raising her small hand to his lips in wonder. He knew MacLeod and a few of the others who knew of this wanted it… but oh the perils. How many times had they considered killing one another over the centuries? How many times had they let their desires and personal agendas and needs… take precedence over love?

How was it possible they had come so far and changed so much in the past nineteen years… when for centuries… nothing had changed? He had kept his secrets… and she had kept her fears. A thought crossed his mind. "Where was J. D. this morning?"

"Fishing."

Methos wrinkled his nose. He hated fishing.

"I know," she laughed.

"Not fair speaking my emotions back to me," he teased and tickled her. She turned in his embrace until her face was inches from his and regarded him with those amazing green eyes.

"Phillip and the boys had planned the trip for days. I told J. D. to go on… that maybe you'd join them."

"Me?" Methos rolled onto his back as he recalled how much he really hated to fish.

She rose over him, her dark hair trailing on his chest. "It would mean so much to him. He misses you terribly. He's a boy… and while he can talk to me… there are guy things he needs to talk to you about."

"Guy things?"

She snickered.

"He's twelve!"

She kissed the tip of his nose. "And somehow it was easier with Derrick?"

Methos snorted. "Derrick was just another child I helped raise… but… "

"J. D. is really and truly yours… and you fear for him."

Methos looked at her sharply. "When did you get to know me so well?"

She snuggled onto his chest with a contented sigh. "Oh… it wasn't easy… you really don't like letting people in."

He snorted again, as his hands and fingers roamed over her. "Fishing… huh?"

"Just for a bit."

"Trying to get rid of me already?"

She laughed as her hands roamed over his chest and down. "Well… maybe not this very minute."

Methos laughed and pounced with a growl.

-----

J. D. slipped another piece of bait onto the hook and cast the line into the pool of water in the small saltwater inlet. Here where the water was calm in this protected tidal pool, Phillip had said fish were plentiful. He'd caught two already and felt a great deal of pride in his accomplishment.

Overhead the warm sun beat down on them, and small insects buzzed about the shore. J. D. considered dipping his head into the water to cool it off… but didn't for fear of startling a fish. Phillip had promised that he'd show him how to clean the fish later… and that the boys' catch would be the mainstay of dinner. Even his mom had said she'd take a bite… just to show her appreciation. His mother didn't as a rule eat meat, so J. D. wanted it to be special.

He heard gravel sprinkle down the small cliff and glanced up to see his father making his way down the path among the grasses of this small cove. J. D. raised a hand to wave enthusiastically.

His father reached the sand and brushed absently at the sand on the knees of his pants. Evidently he'd fallen at least once. J. D. snickered, wondering if his dad had ever camped out or lived off the land.

"Hey Dad," J. D. said.

"Your mother said you were fishing." His dad said the word as if it were distasteful somehow. "Like some company?"

"Sure. There's another pole," the boy pointed it out, but his father did not move for it. Instead he crouched down at the waterline and stared at the water.

He slapped his neck with a scowl as some insect landed there. J. D. laughed. His father shook his head.

"Mom said you didn't like to fish."

His father sighed. "Not one of my more pleasant memories."

"Did you fish when you were a boy?"

His father shook his head. "Not that I recall."

"Maybe that's why you don't like to… your dad never took you fishing," As soon as the retort slipped out, J. D. bit his lip. He hadn't meant to say that. But his dad was always so busy. Back home, he worked on some sort of history and while he was physically there, he often seemed distant… at least as far as J. D. could tell. It was like he was always worried about something. Then they'd come back to the island, and this time he hadn't come with them. Sure, J. D.'s mother had said that his dad was looking for someone and that it was important… but he was important too. He just wished his dad realized it.

"I grew up in a desert. I didn't have the advantage of an oceanfront resort."

J. D. nodded. He understood his dad was older than he looked. He'd been told about how some people are immortal and live forever. They'd had to tell him when he'd been curious about Chou and Denis. "How do you know?" he'd asked his parents. "You don't… unless you die. Most people just remain dead… a few awaken and never grow any older," his dad had said sadly.

J. D. had talked to the other boys about it some. They'd told him how hard it was, being so young, and alone in the world… but how much better things were now.

"Wouldn't it be cool if I was immortal, too?" J. D. had wished aloud.

"Not really," Chou had said with a shrug. "Especially now. There are so many things you'll get to experience in your short life that we never will."

They'd told him about a few things, and how much they both wished that they'd been grown before something had happened to them. J. D. had let the wish remain an idle one. After all… if he wasn't… he'd be dead… and his mother would cry. He didn't want to make her cry.

Just then his line became taught. "I got another one," he said with excitement and began to work the rod and reel to pull the fish in. "It's a big one!" he cried as it fought against him, twisting and racing beneath the water's surface in an attempt to be free.

J. D. could hardly contain himself. His dad would get to see him land a fish. He pulled the rod vertically and swiftly reeled up some more line before letting the rod lower. The fish continued to swim back and forth in the water, pulling at the line to escape. When the fish tired, J. D. repeated the procedure. Phillip had taught him all about working the line and tiring out the fish. Chou and Denis pumped the air… encouraging him. They knew what having his dad here meant to him.

His dad's phonecard beeped. He rose and looked at it curiously, shrugged and answered it… turning back toward the cliff. "Amanda?" That was all J. D. heard. He angrily jerked the rod and felt the line snap. The fish swam free.

"Awww… too bad J. D.," Denis said.

"Yeah, I thought you had him for sure," Chou added.

Phillip winked at him and then regarded his dad up on the shore. "Re-string a hook, J. D. You'll get him next time," Phillip encouraged.

J. D. went to work unsnarling his line and fixing on a new hook and some weights. On shore his dad was pacing back and forth. Finally he tapped the phonecard off and mimed throwing it into the ocean. Seldom had the boy seen such a dark glare on his father's face.

"What's up?" he heard Phillip ask as the Greek waded back to shore. The two men talked quietly a moment… in words that made no sense to the boy. Then his dad waved and trotted back over the dune to the road above.

J. D. tossed the rod into the water in frustration.

Phillip leaned over to pluck it from the ocean and hand it back. "Now you don't want to take it out on the rod. Your dad has obligations. He didn't want to leave… he had to."

"Yeah… sure," J. D. pouted. He took the rod back and waded back to shore where he sat pulling at the fouled line. "Glad to know I was worth a minute or so of his time."

"Your father loves you very much, J. D." Phillip admonished, but J. D. didn't think so. If his dad really loved him… he'd spend more time with him.

-----

Methos was fuming by the time he'd returned to the other side of the island. A hurriedly-dressed Eleanor met him on the path with his small overnight bag. He'd be lucky to make it to the afternoon ferry. "Bloody hell!" he complained as he reached her side.

He grabbed her hand, shouldered his bag, and pulled her along the path. "Why didn't they come talk to us?"

Taking two steps to one of his long strides, Eleanor hurried to keep up. "If someone had told us what was possible and then told us no…" she said haltingly.

"Someone did. Long ago," he replied, recalling his dreams of the ancient shaking her head. "They should have waited. Or at least proceeded with one of us there."

"We can't judge who is to benefit from this old knowledge. It's for all of us." She stopped short and regarded him impatiently.

He paused. "I know. But it so radically changes all we are… there is danger in opening Pandora's box too fast or too widely." He pulled her to him. "I do not regret what we have become… what we are… you know the truth of that. But understand, Eleanor, I fear for others who rush headlong into the future without understanding the past." He kissed her gently and then motioned at the ferry. "I have to go. I'll be back soon… I promise." He kissed her once more and then raced down the road to the dock and leaped onto the rising gangplank.

Eleanor chuckled, holding a hand before her mouth and watching him leave… again. She could still feel him his touch as if he were still here… holding her… kissing her… and in her mind… she could hear him whisper to her.

She'd made the mistake of checking her messages while he'd gone to join J. D. and the others fishing. Once she'd spoken with Amanda… she'd told her to call him. She only hoped J. D. understood. She worried about her son even more than she'd worried about Derrick. Derrick had always seemed to have a guardian angel looking over his shoulder, and she liked to think it was part of Darius' spirit that had watched him grow up and had kept him safe. But J. D. only had his parents… and she wondered what sorts of mistakes they were making with him. But like most parents, she supposed they were muddling through… doing the best they could. When the ferry vanished on the horizon, she made her way to the hospital. She might as well check on the patients as she suddenly had the afternoon free.

-----

**Paris:**

Duncan rang the bell at the Meyers' front door and stood waiting. Estelle, the housekeeper answered the door and showed him in.

"We were not expecting you back so soon, _monsieur_," she said. "Ah… _Monsieur_ Dawson is in the garden."

"I can show myself back there, Estelle, _merci_," Duncan said with a warm smile as he stepped out into Amy's walled garden.

Joe looked up at him quizzically at first; then his trademark grin crossed the older man's face. "Mac!" He closed he book he'd been reading and laid it on the table. "Welcome back!"

"Am I still welcome?"

"You know better than that. I might not agree with you all the time… but we _are_ still friends."

"Thanks Joe. Listen… I need a favor."

Joe sobered immediately. "Watcher favor?"

Duncan nodded slightly. "If it weren't urgent… I wouldn't ask."

Joe ran his tongue over his teeth and drew in a breath with a slight squeak. "I'm sure it is important. You can ask… I'll do what I can."

"I need to find Kate and Alistair Craille."

"Gave you the slip… did they," Joe snorted.

Duncan glared momentarily and then nodded. "I need to find them Joe. It's vital."

Joe motioned with his fingers for Duncan to follow him and steered his motorized chair into the house to Amy's office. He pulled a disk from the drawer and loaded it into the computer… typed a password… and the screen displayed a photo of Craille. Joe ran through the data. "The most recent entry is the other day at the tower… you remember… you helped him give his Watcher the slip."

"I need to know about properties he owns… places he might go."

Joe nodded… moved his cursor a few times up and down… highlighted some information and sent it to the printer. Duncan heard it operate on the far side of the room. He pulled the paper free and glanced at it the list of four properties. It was a start.

"You gonna tell me what's so all-fired important?" Joe barked as he shut the system down again.

Duncan folded the thin sheet of paper and put it in his coat pocket. "I can't today Joe… but I will soon… I promise you."

"This isn't about taking a guy's head is it?"

Duncan shook his head. "No Joe… nothing like that. I'll let myself out." As he left… he wondered how often he could presume on their friendship before Joe finally said, "No." "Trust me Joe," he said to himself, "this time… just trust me."

Stepping out into the street, he glanced up at the thin wisps of clouds high in the sky and prayed that somehow… he could make everything all right again. He'd find them before it was too late, and get them to safety. And then he would have bridges to mend… both with Joe and with Amanda. Hurriedly he climbed into his car and drove off.

Through the window, Joe watched him leave and considered putting a Watcher on him. _Hell_, he thought, _Duncan MacLeod ought to have a Watcher on him_! That he didn't was due to his "special" relationship with Joe himself. But if he was gonna keep secrets… maybe it was time. He pulled out his phonecard and ran his finger along the dial until Amy's work number was highlighted. He paused with his finger on the pad… and then snarled at himself as he shut it off and slipped it back into his pocket. "Damn!" he said aloud. "Feelin' sorry for myself that I can't do my job. Hell… I still can. I just gotta get creative." With a devilish grin… he wheeled to the computer and entered Amy's password. He still knew how to do a few things from here.

-----


	24. Chapter TwentyThree

**Chapter Twenty-Three  
****Washington D.C.**

Lunchtime found Sarah Manning at a small Italian restaurant in the Georgetown district of the nation's capital. She'd reconnoitered earlier and made certain that the location was innocuous and safe. She hadn't lived so long by just accepting people at face value… and she worried that Daryl Miller might have a hidden agenda. But there was no sign in the area of anything untoward.

She'd agreed to meet him for lunch after returning his call this morning. His finding her PCP was a relief to her, as she'd not have to completely reconstruct her database… unless he'd fooled with it. Even then… she might be able to reconstruct some of it more easily than re-building it from scratch. At any rate… not having to buy another one and start over again was a relief. Some of those links were devilishly hard to get access to without government clearance… a government clearance she no longer had. Besides… she likely had time for a little recreation.

She gave him a bright smile and a little wave as he entered and crossed to the table, sitting opposite her. She fingered her wine as she crossed her legs and hidden from sight beneath the white linen tablecloth… inserted her foot into his crotch and began pushing.

He blushed and shifted. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. "And good day to you to. This isn't fair. I can't do a thing for you."

"My meeting. My rules," she said huskily. "Besides, just watching you try to stay calm while you're hard as a rock and ready to explode is very entertaining."

"We could go somewhere… a hotel."

Sarah shook her head. "I'm not interested. That smacks too much of an affair."

"And this isn't an affair."

She laughed. "No… it's sex only. Dangerous… illicit… thrilling… " She punctuated each word with a nudge and chuckled as he tried to read the menu. She shut up when the waitress approached, but kept up her massage as she ordered and then smirked while he nervously placed an order. When the waitress left, he gulped down the water in his glass.

"Damn but you're good," he muttered. He sucked at the ice.

Sarah lifted her foot and grinned. "You have no idea."

"Well then… up against another wall after we eat?"

Sarah tapped the table; her long lacquered nails beating a staccato beat on the tablecloth. "My PCP?" she said and then smiled when he laid it down and pushed it toward her. She booted it up… entered her password and checked her files. "Nice. You didn't fool with anything," she said a bit surprised. She'd fully expected to find that everything was a mess… that in an attempt to find out who she was, that Miller would have tripped the alarm and that the files would have begun deleting.

"No… I just turned it on in hopes of getting a phone number, address, your name." The phone number was all I found."

"Well anything else is on a need to know basis. And you… Daryl… don't need to know." She crossed her other leg and pushed in on him again, reveling as he closed his eyes and shuddered slightly. Suddenly she took pity on him and stopped. He was fun to play with… but maybe it was time to throw him a bone. "Maybe we'll find that wall later."

"If I can walk out of here."

She laughed at that. "Did your wife like your neck?"

He shot her a glance and then rubbed the bruises he'd covered with a little make-up. "Not married."

"Girlfriend?"

Daryl shook his head. "We're not exclusive."

"Pity." Sarah smiled as she shut the PCP down re-encrypting her files with the floating password and shoved it into the purse at her feet. "I would love to have seen her face when she saw them."

"I note yours are covered up too."

"Mine? Oh… I'm a fast healer. I don't keep a bruise long." She quickly changed the subject as the salads arrived. For the remainder of the meal… she discussed the weather… the monuments… the latest films… anything that had absolutely nothing to do with their previous conversation. After all… she didn't want one of the waiters to overhear something he shouldn't.

Once lunch was finished, she let him take her arm as they exited the restaurant. She was in a hurry to get back to her room and work on her little project. She wanted to discover just exactly what and where that island was.

"Where to?" he said, his arm about her waist and his fingers already seeking skin. He whispered in her ear, his tongue already licking her earlobe.

Despite her plans, Sarah motioned up the street about half a block to a filthy alley. She might as well have a little fun and thoroughly degrade Miller's interest in her. "Down and dirty," she laughed as she turned and leaned provocatively against the brick wall of one building, raising a leg to pull him close while practically devouring his mouth and ramming her tongue down his throat. She threw one hand over her head and with the other… began to pull at his clothes.

Daryl groaned as he pushed her firmly against the wall, barely noticing whatever it was he was stepping in that made his feet stick to the pavement. He pulled back and bit her neck as hard as he could, sucking with all his might while she wriggled against him and moaned. "Fast healer?" he hissed. "We'll see about that." He pulled at her top and began to suckle her… again biting her harshly enough to taste blood, all the while feeling her cool hands undo his trousers and begin to massage him roughly. He let out a long breath as he stepped back and suddenly turned her roughly to face the wall… determined to have her his way this time. She laughed in invitation and wriggled her hips. He glanced around to be certain no one was watching as he pushed her skirt up to thrust into her. She continued to laugh and pushed against the wall for leverage while he took her. Even as he did so… he remembered why he was really here… and pulled the small syringe from his jacket pocket to ram into her neck.

She lurched suddenly with a cry that excited him even further. He hit the plunger to deliver the sedative. She was unconscious by the time he finished. He pulled free to do up his trousers and straightened her clothes to recover her as she slumped to the ground. Then he placed the call. "Got her. We're ready for pick-up." He pulled her into his arms and lifted her slightly as he dragged her back to the street. Carl's van pulled up and he loaded her into it with only a cursory glance at a couple of kids watching him curiously. Daryl made a sign as if she'd had too much to drink. The kids nodded as they high-fived one another in amusement and walked on… laughing.

Daryl climbed in and exhaled heavily in relief as he settled into the front seat and he re-adjusted his clothes into a better semblance of order. "My God… she's a tigress… completely uninhibited." He shivered in delight. "I can't wait to have her again. The boss should get some really good footage out of her."

He laughed as they drove away. Behind in the alley… Sarah Manning's purse lay discarded in the refuse littering the ground.

-----

**The Northern Pacific:**

The ship rocked gently as Amber awakened, aware that sunlight streamed through the porthole. From the feel of the ship on the waves… Amber knew they were once more streaking along before the wind. Feeling an immortal presence close by… she lifted her head with a start. It was Derrick. He sat on the floor with his legs drawn up… reading.

Hearing her intake of breath, he looked up at her with a smile, closed his book and rose to settle in beside her. "I didn't want to wake you," he said kissing her brow and letting his lips rest against it for several moments.

Amber pulled him into the bed beside her. "I've missed ya bein' here."

A sob broke Derrick's voice as he slid down beside her and pulled her close. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Never," she whispered as she cuddled into his embrace. Despite it all… she wanted him in her life… in her arms… and in her bed. She had missed him… and if someday he took her head… then that was the price of caring.

The ship's motion soon put her to sleep again. A far better and more relaxing sleep than she'd had for some time.

-----

**Niebos:**

Kenny saw her again… the little girl with black hair and green eyes who tilted her head as she stared at him curiously. She was barefoot, and the fingers of one grubby hand played with her hair as she regarded him.

"Are you dumb!" he'd yelled in exasperation the first time he'd seen her and she'd ignored his questions. He'd risen from his feet and closed in on her when she hadn't answered him. She'd flickered and vanished, leaving him once more alone in the deep well. He'd seen her several times since. She looked at him… but didn't seem to hear what he said.

This time he met her quizzical gaze with a sigh of regret. She wasn't real. She couldn't be real. She was just part of the nightmare… some new twist that his mind was creating.

She turned slightly as if she heard someone. Her mouth moved as if she talked… but he heard nothing. She pointed at him. Then she flickered away like a scene from an old movie on a reel-to-reel projector. The film broke… Kenny could almost here it snap against the gears. He closed his eyes and tried to dream… but the dream was always the same.

He watched figures move up and down a hospital ward… only occasionally glancing at him. He could sense immortals… on the fringes of his vision… but couldn't determine who was immortal and who wasn't. Then the dream faded… and only the well remained.

-----

"What are you doing here Marianna?" Greg Powers knelt down beside the little girl.

"Denara was looking for Grace."

Greg smiled warmly and looked around. "I think Grace is taking a break right now. Why are you in the ward?"

Marianna shrugged. "Visiting the boy." She pointed at Kenny. "He's not very happy. He wants out."

Greg narrowed his gaze as he glanced up at Kenny. The boy laid unmoving… eyes shut… as always. "Wait here," he said gently to the little girl and rose to check the readouts on Kenny's monitors. There had been a slight spike just moments ago. But the readings were now as they usually were. Greg marked the spike and the time along with a notation about Marianna's presence. He'd need to talk to Eleanor and Grace about this.

Finished, he clasped Marianna's hand. "Let's go find Denara and Grace. You shouldn't be alone little one."

Marianna gave him her hand, but looked back over her shoulder at the boy in the well. She waved to him as she left.

-----

**Washington, DC:**

Cecile Marshall shifted in her seat as her supervisor John Parker glanced over her notes and the accompanying purse with the PPC tucked neatly into a pocket. As an experienced Watcher, Cecile, while not the Watcher currently assigned to Sarah Manning, had recognized the elusive immortal emerging from **_Giorgio's_** in Georgetown, while she was on a break from her current assignment… and had swiftly made the most of the happenstance.

"And you got the license plate?" Parker was asking as he handled the PPC gingerly and then set it to one side to let the experts deal with it.

"Yes sir. Our contact in licensing gave me the name and address of the owner of the vehicle. The description matched that of the dark van which the gentleman shoved our immortal into."

"What do we know about the owner?"

"Research is still on it. I also contacted Manning's regular Watcher. He lost her three weeks ago outside of Nashville. He'll be in on a flight later today. From what he told me, Manning has a tendency to be involved in risky and dangerous sex. This time, it looks like she may have gotten more than what she bargained for."

Parker nodded. "I'd say her kidnapper likely has no idea what he has on his hands. She's not gonna be happy when she awakens." Parker sat back in his chair… rocking slightly. "Here's the plan. You coordinate all you can learn about the man she met and the owner of the van to have ready for Manning's Watcher… what's his name… Ryan Coltraine?" Cecile nodded, so Parker continued. "Meet him when he gets in and work with him. Your assignment is as regular as clockwork, right?" Again Cecile nodded. "Then I'm gonna shift you off of him temporarily… let the back-up and the trainee watch for a few days while we figure out what Manning's been up to and what brought her to DC. Dismissed!"

With a slight smile, Cecile rose to leave. She paused as she was leaving. "What if whoever took Manning is planning to kill her? Should we intervene?"

"Unless he's an immortal… I rather doubt she's in any danger… and if he is… well… you know the rules. We don't interfere in challenges or the game."

Cecile started to say something… then thought better of it. "Yes sir." She bowed her head in deference and made her way back to the outer office. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She'd just moved from a quiet unassuming assignment with little room for advancement into the big leagues. She was certain of it! Now was her chance to prove that her abilities as a Watcher were highly underrated. Already her mind was sifting through the protocols and the databases she might use to discover more about the owner of the van. She'd get everything organized and when Coltraine arrived on the evening flight from Houston… she'd be ready.

Cecile positively hummed with excitement as she settled at her desk and began pulling up records to begin her database searches. By the time she was ready to leave for the airport to meet Ryan Coltraine… she felt that she had a good handle on Sarah Manning and her abductors. One thing she was certain of was that Daryl Miller and his associates in the porn film business were likely to have discovered that they'd bitten off more than they could chew… figuratively speaking.

She took a taxi to **_Reagan_** as Coltraine was flying in on a small commuter flight so that she could meet him inside the terminal. While she couldn't meet him as he got off the flight… she'd messaged him earlier that she would be at the baggage pick-up. She'd checked his photo ID before she'd left the office and raised her hand in a small welcoming wave as she saw him descend the escalator. He waved back and after introductions indicated he'd looked up her ID as well. "Can't be too careful," he'd laughed as he snatched a bag from the carousel and the two made their way to the tram heading toward the rental car lot where they picked up the car the organization had arranged for his use while he was in town.

After settling him in his hotel room… the two ordered room service as Cecile spread out the information she'd gathered earlier in the day and began to give it to Coltraine. He added in his in-depth knowledge of her file… including her mysterious and rather sudden departure from her plans a few weeks ago that had left him at a loss.

"I wondered if she'd made me? She supposedly is one that doesn't know about us… but I thought I'd screwed things up and that her change of plans had more to do with my bumbling than anything she was in to."

"You slept with her?" Cecile asked a bit surprised.

Ryan shrugged. "Well… sleep is not what I'd call it. She managed to waylay me outside her hotel in Nashville and ask me about why I was following her. I had to come up with something. Minutes later… she'd pulled me into an alley and had me on my knees. By the time I recovered… she'd driven off. Since she was due in Nashville… I headed there. She never came."

"Did you report your… uh… encounter."

Coltraine blushed. His fair skin showed embarrassment easily. "Not yet. They'd have pulled me off her case."

Cecile leaned forward, her chin on her hands. "So what's it like? You know… are they different?"

Ryan's blush under his black hair had spread across his entire face. "Oh… you know… Manning is a pro… or used to be. She can do things to a man to make him lose perspective. It's her stock in trade."

"So?" prompted Cecile.

"She's good… but then she's had over a century of experience." He reached for a drink of water… the ice clinking in the glass as he raised it to his lips.

Cecile smiled as she drank her own water. She'd often contemplated arranging an encounter with her immortal… just to see what he was like. But her immortal knew about Watchers and so it was not an option. In fact, she had to keep quite a distance between herself and Matthew McCormick. He'd never forgiven them for killing his Watcher and her family twelve years ago for helping him uncover the plots of Henry Rawlins. He'd made it clear that if a Watcher approached him or was found in his immediate vicinity… he'd strike back.

He knew who she was. Sometimes when he left the D.C. police office where he worked now, he'd shoot her a dark glance across the square… as if to be certain that she was where she was supposed to be. Cecile sighed. It must have been so much easier to get to know the immortals before so many had learned of the Watchers. Rawlins hadn't done any of them any favors with his machinations. While some immortals had welcomed Watchers into their families and lives and given them access to their thoughts in the aftermath of what had happened… Cecile's immortal hadn't. He wanted to know who was on him… once he knew, he wouldn't approach them… nor did he wish them to approach him. He'd made that very clear.

So Cecile kept her distance and watched the regular routine and rather boring life of Matthew McCormick or Eric Matthews as he called himself these days. Even when he married again last spring, she'd kept her distance, observing the wedding party emerge from the cathedral. She did wonder if Matthew's bride had any idea of what he was.

Since McCormick was a fairly quiet and regular immortal, she'd been training a new Watcher in the last month. Directives from higher up had decided to pair trainees fresh from the academy and finally ready for field duty, with older Watchers on fairly stable immortals.

McCormick hadn't faced a challenge in several years, so Cecile had been tapped to do the training. Now her trainee would be alone in watching McCormick, although the back-up Watcher would likely be on some of the time. Substitute Watchers worked for a pool of Watchers in an area so that the primary Watcher could take some time off if need be.

Cecile made up her mind not to miss McCormick even if she were never reassigned to him. In fact, she was hoping for someone as unpredictable as Sarah Manning. The woman moved periodically… totally re-inventing herself… but she also had a penchant for danger. Trained by Cassandra, she was fairly competent with a sword and had faced two challenges in the past year. She tended to hangout at after-hours clubs and had been seen involved with swingers groups.

Cecile wondered what it would be like to live a day in Sarah Manning's shoes.

Clearing her throat, she returned to the subject of Coltraine's encounter with Sarah Manning. "So… did she see the tat?"

Coltraine shrugged. "Honestly… I don't know. She has a few interesting ones, though. She periodically checks out artists and has new ones applied when the older ones fade."

"So you had time to notice the tats?" Cecile again felt like laughing.

"A few… yeah," he said ruefully, his embarrassment growing. "When she was done with me… Man she adjusted her clothes and left. I was still trying to figure out what exactly had happened. That's why I missed the direction she headed."

"Do you think she might have known who and what you were and went through this little routine just to put you off of her trail?"

"Maybe. But there's nothing in her file that suggests that she knows about us. When Rawlins was doing his thing back in 2011… she was in CIA special ops and not one they could easily get hold of. Her life then was very proper."

"What about her last challenge?" Cecile shifted through the cold fries and then lifted one to bite.

"Erika Huston… Columbia, South Carolina just before last Christmas." Coltraine's answer popped out as if it were something he was proud to relate. "She watched and hunted her for three days. Then on Dec 15 she accosted her outside a shopping mall. The local authorities never did figure out what the freak lightning that set off car alarms was about. I called it in and the Watcher clean-up squad disposed of the body before it went public. Huston's Watcher and I compared notes afterwards. Neither of us had a reason for the challenge like an old grudge or something. They just saw one another and came out swinging."

"Well… some of them are that way. Some kill all they meet… others seem to merely acknowledge one another's existence and unless one's activities impinge on the other's… there is never a challenge."

"And we watch," Cecile replied thoughtfully. She shivered suddenly… as if someone or something had set its sights on her. "How horrible it must be to live always in the knowledge that at any time… someone might come for your head," she murmured softly.

They had work to do. Their job now was to discover where Daryl Miller had taken Sarah… and be ready with a clean-up squad if need be.

-----


	25. Chapter TwentyFour

**Chapter Twenty-Four  
****Korea**

The gentle slap of the waves and the slight rocking motion of the _Lady Ambergris II_ let Amber know, when she next awakened that the boat was at rest somewhere. Rising, she could feel the stuffy heat of the cabin. It was likely going to be a scorcher now that the storm front had passed. She pulled on shorts and a sleeveless top before slipping into her still damp deck shoes. Brushing her medium blonde hair up into a ponytail, she then headed to the deck.

Passing Michelle she asked where they were.

"Korea, I think," replied the young immortal as she headed below.

Amber shrugged. It made as much sense as anything else; after all, they'd likely have to put in somewhere after the storm. On deck she had a feeling of a diminished buzz. She'd become so accustomed to the presence of the group that the feel of them had pretty much been reduced to background noise. She lifted a hand over her eyes and watched a harbor launch speed away. One of them was on board. Glancing over at Burke waving frantically like a small child, she guessed that it was Wingate.

Dropping her hand, Amber headed into the pilothouse where she found Derrick speaking over the radio… in what she assumed was Korean. She found a breeze blowing through an open window and settled in front of it while she waited for him to finish.

When he did so… she nearly laughed.

Derrick signed off… replaced the handset… groaned loudly … and banged his head on the chart table a few times.

"I take it the local authorities don't buy ya story?"

He turned and smiled at her and then began to chuckle. "My Korean is only passable. I hadn't planned on coming here… but the storm blew us north. So we might as well get some supplies while we're here."

"Wingate went ashore," Amber began.

"Aye! He was reluctant to go, but I arranged for an interpreter to assist him."

"Ya sent him ashore without his sword?"

Derrick shrugged. "Actually… I gave it back. Sending him into a town with no weapon was tantamount to murder. Besides… if I didn't give him his… I figured he'd buy another one while in town… and then we'd still have a problem. By giving him his… I'm hoping he's learned to trust us."

"But do we trust him?"

Derrick made no reply. Instead he leaned back, folded his arms across his chest and regarded her somberly as if trying to _read_ her feelings and intent. "You wanted him off the boat. I talked to him and he agreed to go."

"But ya'll welcome him back?" Amber sputtered forcefully.

"If he wishes to come back."

"I still think he was the immortal trying to get into our room in Denver!"

"Even if you're right… has he made any other moves of that nature? He did go into the ocean to retrieve you."

"Hummph!" Amber snorted angrily. "It's not as if I'd have died."

"But I'd have lost you."

Derrick's voice was filled with pain, which made Amber pause in her anger and consider how losing her might have affected him. She could see a pinched look about his eyes, and there was a tremor to his breathing pattern. "Ya'd have found someone else."

"But I'd have failed you."

Amber bit her lip. What was it about Derrick that made her want to take him into her arms? She shook her head, determined this time to stand her ground.

"Where's your cutlass, Amber?"

Amber looked down at her empty hands. She shrugged. "In the ocean… I guess."

"It's in the cabin."

Snapping her head up, she stared at him. "How?"

"It was still on you when you were brought aboard. Caspar made no move for it. He could have and didn't. The aura of danger around him is not so thick as it first was."

"Aura?"

Derrick shrugged. "It's what I see around people and the state of their emotions. I'm still learning how to read it. Caspar's was charged with danger when we first met. When we agreed to end the fight… it dissipated slightly. But there were still moments that I sensed he was furious with me. Working with Burke helped him a great deal. He'd never known immortals except as something to hunt and kill. He'd never considered really getting to know some… and not killing them. I think he was lonely."

"So we're all yar little projects. According to you, I needed love. Burke needed to get out of that dump. Wingate needed to lose his anger. And I suppose David and Michelle needed to learn how to channel their talents creatively and still maintain the mission."

Derrick shrugged, the tips of his mouth slowly curving upward. "If you say so," he said lightly.

"Ya're a damned puzzle Derrick Foster," Amber snorted as she slapped his arm. "It amazes me how ya can be both a mere child and the oldest man I ever knew all rolled up in one."

Derrick snatched her by the waist and pulled her into an embrace. He nuzzled her neck and kissed her. When he pulled back he laughed. "The better to keep you intrigued… my dear."

Amber placed her hands about his neck and pulled him down again. "Aye… intrigued. I am that." And then she kissed him.

-----

Three hours later Caspar Wingate returned with the interpreter and the supplies. He also had an easy air about him. He winked at Derrick and said, "Thanks for the address. They worked wonders." Amber rolled her eyes. She had a feeling what kind of place Wingate had spent some time in. Well… if it eased the tension… she was pleased. If he noticed the cutlass once more about her waist… he made no mention of it. She did take the time to thank him for rescuing her. He nodded curtly and mumbled "You're welcome" but that was the extent of it. And… Amber still noted that he followed her movements about the boat with his eyes. Her savior or not… she planned to remain on guard around him.

-----

**Paris**

Methos' head hurt. The last high-altitude flight had really drained him. He knew that he'd be fine in a few hours, but it was bothersome to feel less than at his best. There was a reason the experts suggested only one in a twenty-four hour period. He'd had four. He had an inkling of how bad Jayne had felt when she'd arrived in Greece with him.

At the thought of the young Watcher, Methos realized that he hadn't even stopped to tell her where he was going. Well… there hadn't been much time if he were to make the ferry. Surely Eleanor would ease that slight for him. He'd picked up the rental car at the airport and had headed into Paris itself.

He'd let Amanda know that he was in and she'd indicated that things were quiet for the moment. The two separated lovebirds were cooing and calling their love to one another from the rooms where Amanda and MacLeod had secured them. How long that phase lasted was anyone's guess. He'd told her he'd be there after nightfall. He needed to check on Alisaunne while he was in Paris. He'd been privately concerned after reading MacLeod's last message about the state he and Amanda had found her in. "I just need to stop by and see how she is, then I'll come straight on to Robert and Gina's," he'd told her.

"I'll be waiting," Amanda had replied before ringing off.

Now he sat in the rental car outside the hidden grove, he rubbed his temples and blinked the bleariness out of his eyes. He couldn't recall feeling so tired in centuries. Once this little adventure was over, he hoped to take a long leisurely rest on the island. He could barely sense Alisaunne here. The last time he'd come she'd seemed unusually lonely. He'd suggested she get out more… and somewhere along the line they'd nearly come to blows. He'd left abruptly. Somehow they'd just never been able to develop a real father-daughter relationship. He blamed himself for that. He should have tried harder… but Eleanor and J.D. had been foremost on his mind. He hadn't taken the time with her that he should have.

He alit from the car and stretched slightly, looking around for signs of a Watcher. Not seeing anyone in the area, he adjusted his coat with broadsword. Having a child, who appeared to be only a few years younger then he appeared, was also a problem. No wonder children for immortals were a problem! Sometimes he wondered how the ancients had managed it… and at other times, he recalled that their society had been destroyed. They hadn't managed it. Was this course of action on the part of modern immortals even wise? Should it even be continued? Methos worried about that everyday when he contemplated J.D. and Marianna. He had no idea what the future might hold for them… or for immortals.

Slipping into the covered archway, he found the hidden key and unlocked the gate. Once inside, he called out to Alisaunne.

She was on the landing above and gave him a short wave. "Hi! What's up?"

"I was in Paris. You know I like to check on you when I'm in Paris."

Alisaunne sighed. "Let me guess. Duncan or Amanda told you I was really out of it the other night. And you in fatherly affection have come running." Her sarcasm was plainly evident.

"I truly do have business here. I wanted to let you know Eleanor and the children are on Niebos if you try to contact them for any reason."

"Where I'm not allowed." She sauntered down the steps. He noted she was armed.

"Look… I know things between us aren't good. I realize you're closer to MacLeod than to me. I'm fine with it. He's your teacher after all. I just want there to be peace between us. I am concerned about you."

"I was working too hard and just lost track of everything. I thought I had it. I thought I'd finally cracked the code. But in the light of day after they'd left… I realized I hadn't."

"Then give it up for a time. Do other things. It's waited thousands of years. A few more won't matter."

"Exactly my conclusion. But I have this little problem." By this time she'd reached the ground and now stood eye-to eye with him… almost as tall as he was. "I can't spend too much time away from here or Nestor's whispers become too loud in my head."

"Cassandra was unable to help?" Methos asked sadly.

"Oh… she helped. I learned some great tricks for shutting things out. But as the years pass… his desperation becomes stronger and stronger. When I'm tired… it's all I know. I feel as if I'm being torn in two by Havron and Nestor. One rests within me… and the other owns my soul."

"I truly wish I knew what to do," Methos said as he shook his head.

"It's my problem. I'll find a way."

"I'll be in France for a few days. If you need me, call."

"Sure." She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one side.

"It's not that you're less important… but I don't know how to help you. Everything I've tried has had repercussions."

Alisaunne smiled in spite of herself. "Yeah… Niebos to visit and meet my new-born baby brother wasn't such a wise choice was it?"

"No."

Alisaunne shrugged. "I'll be fine. I'm sleeping here for a while so I can actually sleep without dreams. I go out for walks in the sunshine and I'm shopping for food daily. I've changed my entire routine. I'm not even working on the cavern for a while."

Methos smiled. "That sounds like a plan."

"Yeah… Amanda kinda gave me some ideas."

Methos smirked. "I hope not about second story work."

Alisaunne joined in the light-hearted moment and laughed with him. They had so few of them, and they were always over far too soon. As now. He had to go… and she would be alone once more. "Bring Eleanor and the children to see me one day soon," she begged plaintively as he left.

Methos nodded, "I'll see what I can do." He kissed her forehead, feeling her shudder beneath his touch and then pulled away. He left. He still had a long drive ahead of him.

-----

As Methos pulled into the drive before the de Valicourt _chateau_, he was relieved that nothing seemed out of sorts. As he climbed out of the car, he saw a young woman sitting on a bench. She glanced at him quizzically. With a groan, Methos realized the de Valicourt's Watcher was here. This could complicate things depending on how much she'd seen and figured out. He paused as she rose to approach, her hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of her dark coat.

"_Bon soir_," she said with wide smile. "I'm Madeline LeSeur." She offered a slender hand. Even in the darkness Methos was taken with her looks. She was the sort of beauty who stopped men in their tracks. Her thick blonde hair whipped about in the light breeze. He also noticed when he glanced at her white silk blouse visible beneath her opened dark coat, that she was well built… very well built. He sucked in a slight breath of appreciation of the female form.

Within his mind, he noted Eleanor's laugh and agreement. That's where the trouble must lie, he thought. Robert appreciated and Gina reacted. While he didn't know the couple as well as MacLeod or Amanda, he knew that they were often volatile with one another. In fact, his dealings with them had often gone a long way toward strengthening his decision _not_ to marry an immortal. But then Eleanor and the unity bond had happened. Now he couldn't conceive of life without her.

"Adam Pierson," he said, shaking her hand. "Watcher?"

"Yes… you?"

"Not any more. I discovered I'm on the other side." He shrugged, finding himself once more in the persona he'd used for many years. He could have lied to her… but decided under the circumstances not to. After all… if she were anything like Jayne… she'd figure out pretty quickly that he was immortal.

"Oh?" Madeline's eyes widened. She smiled. Moonlight glimmered on her white teeth and on her blouse. She shifted with a measured and provocative sigh.

Methos stepped back and bowed his head… yes… Madeline LeSeur was definitely part of the problem. "So… you were put out of the house."

"Yes…" she pouted. "But I need to watch. Something odd is going on with them. They seemed to know what the other was thinking. They were completing each other's sentences. Amanda called Duncan MacLeod. He put me out. But this is my job. I'm not leaving."

Methos chuckled. She sounded a lot like Jayne. "I'll see what's going on. Maybe you can be allowed back in once things calm down."

"And they'll tell me what they've done?"

Methos shrugged. "Maybe. We'll see." He saluted her casually as if tipping a non-existent hat and turned to knock on the door. It opened before he knocked and Amanda pulled him in.

"It's about time," she snapped. "I'm tired and stressed out. Those two are starting to yell at one another again and _her_ continued presence here isn't helping."

"How do they know she's still here?"

"Gina can see her."

"She's in a room overlooking the front?"

"And Robert's in the back." Amanda sighed. "We had to do something quickly and Duncan couldn't stay."

"About that… you were very vague. What's up with him? I haven't had a message from him in two days."

Amanda blinked tears and shifted uncomfortably. "I thought he'd tell you. It's not my place."

"Amanda?" Methos pushed verbally. Then he took her arms in his hands, noticing that she was biting her lip and looking away. "Tell me? What's he done?"

Meeting his gaze she shook her head. "You'll have to ask him." She pulled back and gestured up the stairs. "We have enough of a problem that has to be dealt with now. Shall we?"

Methos nodded. It was a major problem… but only because these two hadn't listened and had jumped ahead with this on their own. If anything, this situation further strengthened his resolve that the unity bond was something that should only be attempted after the two in question understood all the ramifications. He closed his eyes and mentally reached for Eleanor… as if to remind her that she was and always would be a part of him. He almost felt her reassuring touch before he opened his eyes and sighed. He nodded at Amanda and followed her up the stairs. He wanted to get this settled somehow… and quickly. Already he could hear the two yelling in French and dragging up every slight… real or imagined… in their three hundred years together. Methos sighed. It was going to be a long night.

-----


	26. Chapter TwentyFive

**Chapter Twenty-Five  
****Niebos, later that night:**

"You're certain about this," Eleanor asked Greg Powers thoughtfully. She looked at the readouts on Kenny for the past few weeks since they'd arrived at the island. All of the sudden peaks on his chart had been noted in red ink and the times written in. Had Marianna been there each time?

Eleanor turned to Denara. "Tell me when you took Marianna to the hospital."

Denara shrugged. "I know it's important… but sometimes we just stopped by to see you or Grace."

"And did you leave her alone in the ward on other times besides today?"

Denara thought carefully. Finally she nodded. "I didn't think she needed to be running around the hospital with me. I figured her being in the ward where there were attendants was safer."

"It was," Eleanor assured her. "And perhaps it has given us an idea."

"Then I'm not in trouble?"

"No." Eleanor smiled at her. "I only wish I'd known about this sooner. I truly appreciate all you are doing in keeping her occupied for a time each day. You are a big help."

Denara folded her hands and crossed her feet as she sat in the big chair. She was such a tiny thing and yet certainly not a child. She was the perfect baby-sitter for Marianna, as she appeared to be the same age. She could keep Marianna occupied for a few hours, even if it meant she had to pretend to be the one thing she wasn't… a little girl.

Eleanor dismissed her as she, Grace, Phillip, John, and Greg considered their next step with Kenny.

"If Marianna can reach him… then we owe it to him to help him out of this well she says he's in," Greg proclaimed after Denara had closed the door behind her.

"Kenny is and always will be a menace to us," Phillip reminded them. "He cannot be trusted."

"He's a child," Grace insisted.

"He's not a child. But he is our responsibility," John added.

Eleanor stared at the readouts. "If this works with him, maybe we'll have an idea about how to rouse the others."

"Kenny is like Carl. The holder of his quickening lives."

"But we might still get an idea on how to reach the others. They don't deserve to be left as they are. We should keep the machines on him and carefully record everything."

"It's dangerous for him to see Marianna," Phillip protested.

"Why?" Eleanor replied. "As far as he'll know, she's just a pre-immortal child."

"He shouldn't see Grace," John murmured softly.

"I agree," added Greg.

"On that I think we're all agreed. He'll likely see her in time, though." Eleanor met their gaze evenly. She felt very unsure of herself and did not really like being in charge of the situation. Yet they were all looking to her to have the answers. She supposed that Methos and MacLeod often felt this way. Usually everyone looked to them for answers. She knew she did. But they were busy elsewhere. Eleanor sighed and offered a thin smile. "Let's work out a plan for everything we can think of that might happen," she suggested.

Phillip chortled, "Realizing that no matter what we come up with… something unforeseen will happen."

Greg groaned. "But we have to reach him… or at least try to."

"Then let's figure out what we can. After all… one of us can always kill him after he awakens if he threatens any of us," Eleanor shrugged.

Phillip guffawed. "Right you are. At any rate… we should consider our next steps carefully and not rush into anything." With a somber air, the five immortals began discussing how to handle an awakened Kenny… provided they _could_ awaken him.

-----

**Washington, DC:**

Blearily, Sarah Manning became aware of voices buzzing about her… and more importantly… the presence of another immortal. With greater urgency, she began to climb her way back to full awareness, aware of a bitter taste in her mouth. She found that she could not freely move. Her hands were currently shackled above her head to bedposts. One ankle was likewise shackled to another bedpost so that she was more or less spread-eagled on a flat surface. Urgently she began to thrash.

"There… there… sweetheart," she heard Daryl Miller say. He sat beside her on the bed and ran a hand over her partially bare breasts, stopping to tweak one with his fingers. "It's all right. You're fine."

"Let me go you asshole!" she screamed as she continued to struggle.

"Hey… hey… hey… darlin'," Miller continued. He ran one hand up under her top. She could feel his cold hand on her skin. "It's all right. No one is gonna ask you to do anything you don't normally do. Besides," he grinned, "We're gonna make you immortal."

Something in the way he said it made Sarah freeze. Maybe he didn't know. Still… she was manacled to a bed and not exactly in fighting form for whoever was out there. She licked her lips. "What do you mean… make me immortal?"

Miller chuckled. "I told my people you'd play along." He gestured behind him with his free hand, the other still massaging her breast. She could see a bead of sweat trickle down one side of his face. She looked where he pointed and saw a camera and a handful of scruffily dressed people.

"I don't understand," she smiled at Miller with a calm that she did not feel.

"We want to film you in action. I'm always on the lookout for good talent… and baby… you got it in spades."

Sarah tried to pinpoint the immortal. But either he wasn't one of the ones she saw, or he was a very good actor. "You want them to film us having sex?"

Miller laughed, withdrawing his hand from beneath her shirt and slapping the bare skin of her thigh. "Not me… babycakes. I'm in sales. I told you that. No… someone else."

Seeing motion at the edge of her vision, Sarah turned her head to see a muscle-bound man being oiled by another. He had on a mask and some sort of metal-studded and leather costume that managed to cover nothing. Sarah drew in a sharp breath. But as the man moved, stretching and limbering up, joking in some sort of guttural and accent-laden English… she knew he wasn't the immortal. His presence was steady and unmoving. Perhaps he was in the shadows somewhere… out of the light.

"Not him," Sarah said as she shifted her hips provocatively. She licked her lips and smiled at Miller.

"Sorry," he said with real regret. She could tell he was aroused. "I don't perform on film. Maybe later… after the film is done. Now be a good girl and follow directions. The sooner we're done… the sooner you're free to go."

Sarah didn't believe him. And still the unseen immortal teased her senses with his presence. She began to struggle once more… attempting to break free.

"Really darlin'," Miller said, "there's nothing to be afraid of." He motioned for the actor to take his place as he backed away from the bed and out of the light.

Sarah thought frantically as the oiled actor lowered himself onto the bed, carefully posing to best show off his physique. He leaned over her and began to fondle her. She waited until he moved his face over hers and tried to kiss her. At first she kissed him back, as if she eagerly awaited him. She sucked at his mouth and shifted her hips until he darted his tongue into her mouth… nearly choking her, so massive was it. She was barely aware of the man behind the camera yelling instructions. Evidently sound would be added later. She could feel the actor's hands reach under her clothes and begin to rip them slowly off of her. Then she bit down as hard as she could keeping her teeth clenched as the actor flailed up and down, desperately trying to free himself. Blood filled her mouth.

He let out a strangled cry as he tried to leverage himself free. Sarah bit harder. Then she felt a prick on her arm and a warm, burning sensation begin to fill her veins. Above the actor's screaming she thought she could hear voices buzzing in the distance. Gradually she relaxed her bite and he pulled free. The lights above her seemed to whirl with abandon… then darkness claimed her. And still the ominous presence of the unseen immortal had not moved.

-----

She could still taste the blood. Groggily Sarah licked her lips and swallowed. Her throat was dry and she ached. The room was a dark, but she could smell cigar smoke, and she could still sense the immortal.

"I know you're there," she spat bitterly. "This isn't a fair challenge." Her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. She saw the faint glow of the cigar as the immortal drew on it, and then smelled the smoke he breathed out.

"Well get it over with," Sarah finally said after some moments. "But not this… I am not going to perform for you."

The immortal chuckled and his shadowy form shifted as if he'd un-crossed his legs… and then re-crossed them. "I rather think you will," a thin voice finally said from the darkness. "Perform in the film as asked… and I will free you afterwards."

"What makes you think I'll trust you?"

"Oh… you can't. But if you refuse… I'll kill you now. No one is here. But it's such a shame. Miller couldn't stop talking about you. Imagine my surprise when he brought you in that you were immortal."

"You aren't hunting?" Sarah felt like if she could keep him talking, maybe she could get some insight into him and what he wanted.

"Not at the moment," he replied smoothly. "As I say… you were a surprise. What were you… a prostitute at one time?"

Sarah looked away.

"Ah. Killed by a lover some long ago night."

She felt her face burn and pulled the wriest shackles angrily.

"Yes. Training and blood tells it all. I'd say you've put on a brave face and become a self-assured businesswoman. But with a secret vice. You still like having men… only you have them and leave them begging for more."

Sarah screamed and tried once more to free herself.

"I'll bet you've never really loved a man. So no one will miss you once you're dead."

"You're wrong. Ben will find me."

"And who is this Ben?"

Sarah slowed her breathing wondering what to tell this guy. Certainly not the truth. Maybe just a shade of truth. "My teacher… Ben Adams." In a way, she could say that. Ben was the first immortal she ever met that she knew of. That she had still been pre-immortal at the time and that he hadn't deigned to teach her were little white lies.

The immortal drew in a quick breath and held it.

Sarah thought furiously. What had she said? Something had broken through that icy exterior.

The glowing end of the cigar brightened as he took another puff, and then lowered it, evidently tapping the cigar on something to remove the excess ash. "So you know Benjamin Adams. And how is the good doctor?"

Doctor? Ben was a doctor in some previous life? Sarah realized she was playing a dangerous game with this immortal. Besides… she didn't want Ben dead so much as in her life and in her bed. "He's fine. When I see him, I'll let him know what a kind host you were."

The immortal chuckled for several moments. "Ah yes. You seem to have the good doctor's rapier wit and gift for sarcasm. Relax. It's not him I want. But he has a friend… a burly fellow. Goes by the name of Gerard sometimes."

Sarah wracked her brain for an immortal who might have visited the club in San Francisco with Ben. She couldn't recall him with anyone. She shrugged. "I don't think I know him," she said smoothly. That was better than trying to lie about someone she'd never met. "But then Ben and I aren't always together. We lead separate lives. It's not wise for immortals to have long relationships when any argument can result in a loss of… life."

Staring confidently at the shadowy figure she tried to appear bored. "What name shall I give him? He'll want to know who you are."

The immortal laughed and then laid his cigar aside. He rose and leaned over her, turning on a small lamp. She noted his dark hair, cut short and neatly trimmed. About his full mouth was a dark goatee. His gray silk shirt was stylish and expensive. "My name is Martin Kingsley. At least… that was the name I knew Adams and Gerard by once upon a time.

Sarah shook her head. "Never heard of you. You must not have made an impression." She pulled at her shackles and glanced at them and then at him. "Are these really necessary?"

"Afraid so, my dear. Now get some rest. You'll have a full day of filming tomorrow… and if you expect to keep your head… there will be no more little stunts like today. Time is money. Perform as directed… and I'll see to it you go free. Besides," his smile widened. "You being immortal has given me an idea on how to make this film a real killer project." He turned out the light.

Sarah sobered and pulled again at the shackles.

His lips were suddenly next to her ear. "Death can be so painful… even if it's not permanent." He kissed her ear, then straightened and left still laughing.

She could see light as he opened the door and then the darkness descended once more. She was alone… and she needed to find a way to free herself. "Remind me to be more careful about whom I pick to play with next time," she said softly to herself through gritted teeth. Ben's name had given Kingsley ideas. But if he thought she'd help him locate Ben to kill… he had another thing coming. She re-doubled her efforts to no avail.

Eventually exhausted, Sarah Manning slept fitfully.

**_Chateau_ de Valicourt, early morning:**

Methos rubbed hands over his face. He'd been up all night and nothing he'd said had made one whit of difference. He'd spent time with both Gina and Robert. Neither was ready to listen to what he had to say. Gina tried coming on to him… and Robert threatened to skin him alive if he so much as touched Gina. They'd yell sweet nothings back and forth until one or the other of them thought of some little peccadillo they other had and it started again. No wonder Amanda was exhausted.

Methos had sent her to bed soon after he'd arrived. He hoped she'd gotten some sleep… although he doubted how anyone could in this madhouse. Once again he silently cursed MacLeod. This whole community of immortals was his idea. All Methos wanted was to live quietly with Eleanor for the time being and raise their children… preferably someplace out of the way and safe. But no… he'd agreed to help MacLeod with his little project. He'd agreed to come out of hiding and to meet with selected immortals along with Duncan and support him in this crusade of his to end the game.

Part of him knew this was the right thing to do. He didn't want his children growing up only to inherit the same game that had haunted their forebears' lives. He wanted them to live in a peaceful world. But dammit! These were MacLeod's friends… not his. Gina had even tried to kill him once upon a time. They still didn't really know who he truly was. He was still Adam Pierson… MacLeod's friend.

Rising, Methos padded out of the bedroom where Robert was confined, locked the door, taking the key with him, and descended the stairs in search of the kitchen, and coffee. Entering the kitchen, he was startled by Amanda's presence. "I thought you were upstairs sleeping," he said relaxing the sudden grip on the hilt of his sword.

Amanda shrugged. She was seated on a high stool at a counter, her long legs crossed as she gripped a large mug of evidently cold coffee. Her red silk kimono set off her dark hair perfectly. She arranged it over her legs with a rueful smile. "I made coffee."

Heading toward the coffee maker, Methos poured a cup and lifted it to his lips. He nearly spit it out. It was strong and quite bitter. He smiled and saluted her. "Good coffee!"

Privately he wondered how much of the vile concoction he'd have to drink. He settled onto the stool on the opposite side of the bar. "So why couldn't you sleep?"

Amanda sighed. "Just thoughts."

"About?" He tried sipping it again, feeling the gritty stuff on his teeth and tongue.

"Duncan. I've left half a dozen messages asking him to call me. He needs to know what is happening here."

Methos nodded his agreement. "So what's so important that he's not here?"

Amanda leaned onto the bar, idly turning the cup in her hands. "He wants children," she finally said. "And I don't think I can do that. I like my life too much as it is to consider it."

Methos nodded in understanding. The children had changed everything. Giving up a part of his quickening to create them had been unsettling… but once done, he couldn't imagine not doing it. If only it were safer. There was still so much that they did not yet know about the process. And while Eleanor seemed fine, he worried what carrying the children did to her. "We should know more about the process once Grace's child is born," he said with a shrug. After all, Grace had not, like Eleanor, gone through a pregnancy in hours and given birth to some harbinger of another time as he sometimes thought of Alisaunne. Never having known her as a child, he still felt odd about thinking of her as _his_ child… his and Eleanor's. Grace's strength would be much greater.

He sipped the bitter coffee absently, thinking of the thin lines around Eleanor's mouth and the dark circles about her eyes that he'd sometimes seen during her pregnancies. Too often, when she hadn't been aware, he'd watched her stumble or lean against something wearily. She'd never had a great deal of immortal strength, and he worried that what she did have had been used in carrying and bearing the children.

"You seem awfully thoughtful this morning yourself," Amanda said with a grin.

Methos shrugged. "Just thinking that Duncan's a damned fool for leaving you."

Amanda rose and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "And despite your attempts at dispassionate humor… you really do care about all of us."

Methos gave her a mock look of surprise. "Care? Why I don't know what you mean. My motivations are purely selfish."

"Of course they are," Amanda laughed. "Even Rebecca once told me that you hide behind that false face of weary detachment, was the way I think she put it. She said that inside you is a little boy desperate for approval and love."

"Rebecca was a romantic."

"I know," Amanda laughed. She gave him a little wave and left still laughing lightly.

After she left… Methos made certain that she was gone and then dumped the coffee she'd made into the sink and the grounds into the trash. He carefully washed the carafe and the cups and wiped down the coffeemaker inside and out before making a new batch. While it brewed he thought about Rebecca… or Xanthia, as he'd first known her over two thousand years ago. He saw her in his mind's eye as he'd seen her that first day. He'd been in the _agora_ of Athens when he'd sensed her, and had turned slightly to see her walk through the crowd… the sunlight gleaming off of her red-gold hair. Many of those present had bowed slightly and moved aside for her. She'd been a rare beauty… Xanthia of the red-gold hair… amongst all those dark-haired Greeks. Tall and slim she'd been. She'd met his gaze with curiosity, wondering if he were a threat to her. He'd smiled and lowered his head to show that he wasn't. Later, he'd accompanied Socrates to her home. Xanthia… a womanwhose home was the scene for political and philosophical discussions of all kinds. Artists of all disciplines had likewise been in attendance.

"Are you hunting?" she'd asked him quietly in a private moment.

"Only for knowledge," he'd replied truthfully. It had been the beginning of a long friendship. She'd never known who he truly was, however. The name Methos was one he'd buried in the sands of time until he'd told Eleanor over a century ago… and it had remained a secret from all others until Duncan MacLeod had shown up on his doorstep that day nearly thirty years ago. He'd wanted to remain hidden from Kronos and the others. He could do so only by burying his past. It had almost worked. He sighed. Rebecca's loss was one that still stung.

The coffee finished brewing. Methos poured a cup and returned to his seat at the counter. He still needed to figure out how best to deal with the feuding de Valicourts. His musings on both current and old loves notwithstanding, he had plans to make.

A shadow crossed the bar. Glancing at the back door, he noted Madeline LeSeur with her face and hands pressed against the panes, looking for all the world like a lost waif. Methos snorted. Waif indeed! He rose and opened the door to admit her.

"Am I back in?" she asked eagerly.

"No… but I thought you could use some coffee." He poured her a cup and handed it to her, then watched with amusement while she ruined it with lots of cream and several tablespoons of sugar.

"So what happens next?" Madeline said as she settled onto Amanda's vacated stool and leaned over the counter, the cup in her hands.

Methos eyed the way her movements managed to pop the top button of her silk blouse so that her ample cleavage practically spilled out, and sighed. If he had thought it had been a long night, he now knew it was likely going to be an even longer day.

-----


	27. Chapter TwentySix

**Chapter Twenty-Six  
****Yokohama Harbor, a week later:**

If Korea had seemed dull and forbidding during the brief time they'd anchored there, the opposite could be said of this busy Japanese harbor. A deep-water port, it was home to ships of all sizes. The _Lady Ambergris II_ seemed dwarfed by some of the super-tankers in her waters.

As Derrick expertly steered the yacht between the giant ships and into a vacant slip, Amber could not help but be amazed at the size of the giant vessels. Oh, she'd known about them, of course. She'd even seen a few from land-based points of view, but sailing amongst them gave her an entirely new perspective of their size.

Sensing an immortal behind her, she looked over her shoulder to see Wingate also contemplating the super-tankers.

"Wowee!" he whistled sharply. "Gotta admit… this trip is giving me a whole new perspective on the world."

Amber turned back to the rail, determined not to be seen actually agreeing with the immortal. He still made her feel as if something dangerous were aboard.

Nearby, Burke was going, "Toot! Toot!" as he waved at the smaller tugboats shepherding the big tankers. Amanda smiled thinly at the man and wondered what he thought about all of this. Did he even understand why they here? Did any of them?

Shortly later they were tied up at a slip and cleared through customs.

"C'mon," Derrick said with a grin as he grabbed her hand.

"And where might we be goin'?" she replied.

"I want you to meet someone. I was based out of here one winter a number of years ago. I found a _dojo_ to work out in and a _sensei_ who taught me a lot about wielding such a large blade."

"Mortal?"

Derrick shrugged. "I assume so. I wouldn't have known the difference at the time."

"Aye… I forget ya're only a few months one of us."

Derrick pulled her along with him down the gangway. He waved to the others as they likewise headed off.

"Whar are they goin'?" Amber asked.

"David and Michelle want to check on an import-export company that might feature his furniture. I asked Caspar to take Burke along on a tour of the city. Burke's been pretty cooped up and he needs to get out."

"Wingate still has his sword. Does Burke know that?"

Derrick nodded, but shrugged it off. Amber hoped he wasn't making a huge mistake.

Soon they were on one of the narrow streets flanked by high buildings and colorful street vendors. This wasn't one of the better sections of town, Amber guessed. She doubted that tourists came down to this portion of the city often. About her she could hear the singsong of the local language, and smell the food being offered for sale. Her mouth watered as she realized just how hungry she was.

But Derrick didn't stop. He was determined to find this _dojo_ he'd once trained at no matter what. Through the twisting warren of streets they walked until Amber was totally confused and lost.

"It's just down this one," Derrick said, pointing out another street. "I remember that shop."

That shop looked like a thousand others they'd seen on this trek. Amber didn't know how he could tell the difference. But he was right. He stopped before a tinted window displaying a blinking purple neon sign. "This is it," he told her and opened the door.

They entered into the clean open space of the martial arts facility. The heavy odor of old sweat permeated the air, although incense burned at a shrine set up to one side.

A small man attired in black, approached and bowed a greeting. Derrick bowed in return and the two chatted in Japanese for some moments before they bowed to one another once more.

"Let's go. He's not here. He sold the place last month and was going to retire."

"So we've come all this way for nothin'?"

Derrick smiled. "I didn't say that. He had me to dinner once. I think I can still find the place."

"Ya _think_ ya can find it?"

After chuckling, he replied with a shrug. "It was dark." Taking her hand, he headed onto the street once more. He paused to get his bearings and then took off. Amber struggled to keep up with his long loping gait.

He finally began to climb a small mountain road on the outskirts of the city. From where they were, Amber could see well-appointed estates and older, more traditional Japanese homes. At the top, the road dead-ended by a high gate set in a stone wall.

Finding the call box, Derrick quickly explained who he was and whom he was searching for. A few moments later, the gate swung open. "Shall we?" he said with a grin and pulled her along onto the grounds. The gate shut behind them.

Amber had to admit the garden was perfection itself. The grass was even and smooth; tree branches bent low over stands of flowers, and a brook meandered through the grounds. As they crossed over a small arched bridge, she could see _koi_ swimming. Ahead was a house that might have stood there for well over a century… so picture perfect was it.

It was then that they both hesitated on the pebbled path… an immortal was ahead of them. Derrick glanced at Amber almost with surprise… and then nodded and continued forward. He'd dropped her hand as if giving her the chance to remain where she was, but Amber was not about to let him continue on alone. Instead, she loosened her cutlass, and kept her hand on its hilt.

As they approached the wide wooden stairs leading to a spacious veranda surrounding the house, amber saw the immortal. Dressed in traditional robes, his dark eyes peered at them sharply over his small mustache. His dark hair was cut very short; his _katana_, sheathed, was in his hands.

Derrick called out to him and bowed… both his hands in plain sight.

Amber held her breath.

The immortal descended the stairs. "Derrick, my young student. So you have joined us at last."

Derrick glanced up. "You knew?"

"Your potential to be one of us was as plain as your face. I knew it the first day you entered my _dojo_ for lessons. Do you still carry that monstrous weapon you call a sword?"

Derrick opened his coat and pulled it free, bowing slightly as he held it out before him with both hands.

"You would be wise not to offer that thing to other immortals," the immortal said. He laid his sheathed _katana_ along his neck and paced about with amusement.

"Amber, this is Hikaru Masahiro, my friend and teacher. This is Amber Conroy," Derrick explained.

"Are you so certain I am still a friend, young Derrick?" Masahiro suddenly pulled his _katana_ loose from its sheath and held it overhead as he turned, ready to strike downward.

At the same moment, Derrick twirled the broadsword in his hands so that he deflected Masahiro's blow. Then the two men began to warily circle one another. Amber cried out, but moved back nervously.

"So… you have not forgotten everything I taught you."

"I have endeavored to remain always ready."

"_Hai_! In all my days, I had never seen one who held potential so determined to learn every move possible. It was as if you knew."

"Perhaps I did," Derrick replied. The two raced toward one another, their blades clashing and sparks showering them both. Once… twice… three times they clashed and then withdrew. Both men were perspiring in the heat from their exertions.

"Most who have some idea of what we are… find an early death… and a very permanent one. I am relieved you made the change… if in fact you did know."

Derrick shrugged. "I'd ceased to worry about it years ago."

"Perhaps that then is the reason. Good thing I never taught you this!" Masahiro turned abruptly and executed a complicated set of moves that caught Derrick off-guard. He backed away… putting up a few blocks and then suddenly seemed to understand and executed his series of moves that turned the table and swiftly managed to disarm his former teacher. He caught the _katana_ on the way down as he lightly laid the broadsword along Masahiro's neck.

The immortal bowed. "And the pupil has become the teacher."

Derrick removed his blade from Masahiro's neck and returned the bow. He glanced at the _katana _in his other hand. "I suppose you want this back?"

"If it pleases you. I have carried it for well over a century. It was given to me by the emperor himself when I served him as _samurai_."

"Then it is a noble blade." Derrick returned it.

Masahiro took it, regarded it sharply, and then laughed. He turned to pick up the dropped scabbard and shoved the blade home. Then he turned to clasp Derrick by the shoulders and welcome him.

"Would you have taken my head?" Derrick asked.

"If you had not fought with all of your ability… I might have given you a scar you would carry always," the Japanese swordsman laughed.

He nodded at Amber. "I have had tea prepared. Come… join me."

Amber let out the deep breath she'd been holding. Derrick slung an arm about her jovially. "It's an old game. He always tested me thus."

"Aye… but was yar head ever in jeopardy before?"

"Have no worries Miss Conroy," Masahiro was saying. "Custom dictates that I not behead anyone I welcome as guest."

"Ya're makin' that up," she snorted.

"Perhaps I am. Still… you are guests in my home. I must treat you accordingly." He led the way onto the veranda where a servant was setting out the tea things. She bowed deeply as the three approached and withdrew.

"Does she know?" Amber asked nodding in the woman's direction.

"I doubt it. Yoshi has been with me several years. I've had no reason to face a challenge in that time." He gestured them to take their seats as he poured the tea. Once all three had theirs, Masahiro sat easily and regarded Derrick and Amber over his cup. "Your arrival here is fortuitous. I was planning on leaving here. I've likely been here too long. Within a few days, I would have been gone and you would have found only an empty house."

"Where are you off to?" Derrick asked.

Masahiro shrugged. "I have not decided. I had thought a bit of traveling to see the lands beyond Japan and China."

"We have a yacht. We would welcome you," Derrick said while Amber gasped at his openness.

"Traveling with other immortals? Why does that strike fear into my heart?"

Derrick laughed and shrugged. "It's not really a problem. There's six of us." He went on to briefly explain how they came to take ship together. While he talked and Masahiro listened, Amber shook her head. She had a feeling that they might have picked up another traveling companion.

Twilight was descending around them as Masahiro's elderly housekeeper brought trays of food and then bowed silently as she departed. The three immortals took little notice of her, so deep in conversation were they.

As she left for the evening, a man approached the gate, bowed and chatted with her a moment, and then entered as the gate closed behind him. After she'd left, he grinned slyly as he drew his _katana _and quietly walked up the path.

-----

**Washington, DC:**

Sarah Manning had lost track of time. With Kingsley's threat hanging over her head… literally… she'd buckled down and been downright stunning… at least in her own mind… for the filming. The plot… such as it was… seemed to involve an executioner… the masked Hans… and his ministrations on the lovely prisoner… Sarah. Occasionally, two hooded actors… evidently inquisitors of some sort… also were filmed with her. She found it interesting that none of their faces were ever shown… but that hers was. She might even have enjoyed herself… if it hadn't been for Kingsley's presence and the ominous threat he posed. She was currently shackled only by one hand, but she was still at a disadvantage.

"One more scene," Eric the director called. Sarah sighed and tossed her hair. It was damp and matted about her head. She dearly wanted a long shower and a decent meal. What she'd been fed had been cold and greasy. Hardly appetizing.

"How do you want me?" she said and yawned as if bored.

"Just cowering on the bed will do it."

Sarah rolled her eyes and assumed a position, moving slightly as Erik barked directions. Hans was arguing with one of the robed actors. Finally he threw up his hands and stalked off camera. Evidently he didn't like the next scene for some reason. She heard the door slam behind him. She noted that the hooded actor… she'd never gotten his name and Eric were the only two present. _That's odd_, she thought.

Eric set the camera to record. "You got one take," he said and also left.

Sarah looked at the actor now drawing a sword from beneath his robes. She panicked, attempting once more to get away. She kicked out at him and ducked and wove to avoid him.

He held the blade up before him, his dark eyes glittered a bit behind his mask.

"Listen. You don't know what this is about," Sarah cried. She could sense Kingsley's presence wherever he usually was. He wasn't in the room and this wasn't him. "Kingsley! Stop this!"

The actor grinned. She could see his mouth below the half-mask. "I'm gonna enjoy this," he said. He swung the sword and then pulled it back… ramming it into her chest.

Sarah coughed blood. "Please… don't," she begged. She was sliding back along the blade… slowly falling to the bed.

As she hit the bed, she felt the blade withdrawn. "Snuff is where it's at doll," the actor said. But his voice sounded odd and far away. Sarah's consciousness became limited to a smaller and smaller area… as if the circle of light was shrinking… shrinking… shrinking… until it was a point of light. Then there was nothing.

As soon as she was dead… the actor turned to the camera and shut it off. Then he removed his mask and hood and began to clean his weapon. He glanced up as Kingsley entered. "You saw?"

"I watched. Nicely done. She showed real terror."

"Using a sword was different. I usually use a gun."

"I don't think a gun would have terrified her," Kingsley chuckled. He carefully removed the disc from the camera.

"So same pay as last time? You want I should dump the body?"

"Same pay. But someone else will dispose of this body. I don't like using the same location too often."

"Suit yourself. I gotta say," he added, suddenly brandishing the sword at Kingsley, "I did like the feel of it as I gutted her. It was somehow so much more real than a gun."

Kingsley reached out and snatched the blade from the man's hands. "Be careful with that thing," he snarled. "Now get out of here. Take a cab and leave the car."

The actor left.

Kingsley laid the blade to one side and leaned over the bed. "Tsk… tsk… tsk… such a mess. Guess I better get you cleaned up." Wrapping her in the bloody sheets, he carried Sarah out of the room, wondering how long it would be before she revived… and how long it would be before he could get enough information out of her to find Adams… and Gerard.

-----


	28. Chapter TwentySeven

**Chapter Twenty-Seven  
****Niebos:**

The little girl was back again.

Kenny snorted in derision as he turned away, determined to ignore her. She'd appeared several times recently… a dark-haired little girl with an odd feel of pre-immortality to her. She seemed stronger than any pre-immortal that Kenny had ever seen. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought she _was_ immortal. But she grinned at him shyly and waved at him… as if trying to get him to join her. But if she said anything… her words were lost in the silence of this place.

He was alone. Time held no meaning. He pulled his legs to him and closed his eyes.

-----

"Nothing," said Greg as he looked over the EEG readouts. "She doesn't make one bit of difference."

"So it would seem," Eleanor agreed sadly. "I guess that's it. We can keep trying… but I don't think we're getting anywhere with this." She rubbed her eyes. She'd been taking Grace's shifts at the hospital as well as her own this last week and was she tired.

"Listen… go home. I can stay and watch tonight." Greg gave her a supportive smile.

"You've been on duty even longer than I have."

"I don't have two children to parent."

"Give it time," Eleanor laughed. "Your day is coming."

Greg nodded. Grace was nearing term. The baby would likely be born within the next month or so. He found he was as eagerly anticipating the birth of this child as Grace and John were. She was his as well… some part of him made up this child's being. "Nevertheless… go home… get some sleep." He playfully pulled her to her feet and aimed her in the direction of the exit. "Now scat!"

Eleanor gave in. She was tired… and the long hours at the clinic were taking her away from her children. She hated that… almost as much as she hated the fact that Methos had not yet returned. With a light step, she slipped along the well-worn path between the clinic and the villa. Already she could feel the lighter air of the immortals there… not the almost dead weight of the ones in comas. High-pitched voices were carried toward her on the night air. The boys she thought. Seeing Phillip on the terrace, she climbed toward him, noting a sleeping Marianna in his arms.

"Here," she said quietly, "I'll take."

"Oh… she's fine," Phillip teased but gave the sleeping child over to her mother. Marianna whimpered slightly… but then settled comfortably against Eleanor.

"Where's J. D.?" Eleanor asked as she rocked back and forth slightly.

Phillip gestured with his chin. "Out there. Chou, Denis and he are star-gazing."

Eleanor glanced heavenward to stare at the bright panoply of stars in the otherwise dark sky. Although blessed with electricity, the island was usually dark at night, as though the inhabitants of this island treasured the darkness that came at night. The stars above were slightly different from the stars she could recall from her long-ago childhood. But even then… she'd stared up at them and drawn pictures in her mind's eye as she'd connected the dots. She chuckled to herself, recalling how excited Derrick had been when Methos had given him a telescope during their years in Scotland while the boy grew to manhood. Even then the stars were different… the pictures slightly changed from those she recalled. But in this southern sky… even' Arthur's wain… called by some the Big Dipper… or _Ursa Major_… was much lower in the sky. She smiled thinly. "Keep an eye on them. I'm taking Marianna to bed."

Phillip laughed and leaned over to kiss them both. "I shall. Those boys are up to something… I know it. I just haven't figured it out yet."

"Is there any trouble they can get into?" Eleanor asked with worry. "They wouldn't put J. D. in any danger would they? They know better than that!"

"Oh… I think they understand that. They're not children… after all. They know how hard it would be for J. D. They've been there and done that themselves. Now go on to bed. I'll keep watch." He winked at her.

Eleanor turned away and carried Marianna up the stairs to the bed in her room. Laying the child on the bed, she undressed her and pulled a thin nightgown over her. Marianna whimpered slightly… but didn't awaken. As Eleanor removed her own clothes and grabbed a seldom-used cotton gown for herself, while she gazed on Marianna's sleeping form. The barely four-year-old girl slept on her back… one fist knotted up and near her mouth. Her dark hair lay in a tangle about her and her short legs were splayed and bent at the knees. To Eleanor's eye… she was still a miracle.

Wearily she crawled in beside the girl and settled down to sleep… still painfully aware that the presence she most wanted here… wasn't.

-----

Eleanor was at first uncertain where she was. Then out of the mist she could see the scaffolded structure of **_Notre Dames des Paris_** as she had first seen it. It seemed oddly alone without the workers she had once seen there.

Fog swirled about her and she turned curiously, aware that she wore her heavy cape and sword, and that her long braided hair hung heavily behind her.

"It's a dream," she whispered. It had to be a dream. Perhaps something dredged up from her worries of the day.

Is it?" teased the familiar voice at her back. She could feel him suddenly… his strong presence behind her. Eleanor closed her eyes within the dream and let it take her to that long-ago day.

-----

_**Paris, 1165:**_

"You look tired," Darius remarked when Eleanor rose from the latest patient and rubbed one hand wearily over her brow, tucking a few stray strands of her long black hair that had escaped the braid, behind her ear. She'd mid-wifed often, but seldom had she attended so many mortals with such a wide array of injuries. She felt her small knowledge was being tested and found wanting. In the distance she could hear the cries of the workers as instructions were called out, as well as prayers and hymns.

She was still a bit uncertain about this strange immortal, although she sensed she was in no danger from him. She still wondered that one of them… and by them she meant an immortal… could seem to exist calmly and without a sword. Despite working with the injured… Eleanor's short-sword was hidden amongst her voluminous skirts. She'd removed her cape to make it easier to work… but she'd refused to be without the blade. "Aye," Eleanor agreed with a nod. "Too many scrapes and breaks to my liking." she regarded the rising walls of the cathedral and spat. "That thing will be the death of many."

"But it will also be the salvation of many," Darius chided her gently. "Come!" He pulled one hand free of his monk's robes and gestured for to follow him.

Eleanor folded her arms before her and stepped warily to his side. "Why? What do you wish to show me?"

Darius laughed. "Such a suspicious nature. We shall have to work on that."

"_We_ must be always on our guard," Eleanor said meaningfully lifting an eyebrow. "Or else we die."

"So we were all taught," he laughed and re-tucked his hands into his sleeves. "But it's only lunch." He walked off, and… after a moment's pause… she followed.

He'd strewn a great cape on the ground beneath a small and twisted tree. On it was a basket. He sat easily and began to rummage in the basket. "Let's see what we have."

Eleanor glanced around. Mortals were all about them, although all were a short distance away… most standing about boards laid on trestles. Uneasily she knelt down and watched the priest immortal. He was a puzzle… and one she thought she'd never understand. "You think of me as some sort of project?"

Darius lifted some bread from the basket and tore of a hunk before handing it to her. He chewed thoughtfully and then shrugged. "I think of you as someone who has a lot to learn."

"I'm older than I look," she insisted.

"Aren't we all. Guess how old I am."

She looked at him oddly, and then shrugged. "Older than me."

Darius laughed lustily as if she'd said something truly humorous. He wiped at his eyes and then sobered. "I am over a thousand."

Eleanor's eyes widened in surprise. "Years? Is such a thing possible?"

Darius shrugged. He rummaged for the wine jug and lifted it out to pour some into two wooden cups. "I suppose I am proof of that. I also know of some much older than I."

Eleanor accepted the cup from him and considered his words carefully. "Older. That would mean that they are very… very good."

He shrugged and sipped from his own cup. "Either that or very lucky."

"And have you been a priest all that time?"

He sobered a moment, evidently reflecting on some memory… she'd seen Phillip do that occasionally, as well as Edward in the brief time she'd known him as an immortal. He set the cup down. "No," he said. "I was not always a priest."

"Then why be one now? What I mean is… this seems so at odds with the lives we lead as immortals. How do you reconcile the two? I was raised Christian… but I've let that go in the centuries I've lived."

Darius nodded. "Most of us do. Whatever the beliefs we carried in our mortal lives become merely trappings to our immortal lives. But my being a priest is not so much about the religion… as about the need to preach the message."

Eleanor spurted out the wine in her mouth in laughter. "The message?"

"That peace is possible," he replied. "I was here before the church rose to power in this place. It joined me rather than the other way around."

Eleanor regarded him curiously. "You've been in this place a thousand years? Don't people notice that you don't change? I was told to keep moving… to remain no more than a few years in a single place."

"Well I haven't been here all that time. But I have been here many lifetimes… as was the one before me."

"I don't understand."

"He was the last immortal I killed… the last one I will ever kill. I am complete now. I came to understand in his quickening that peace was possible. Peace… and love. I took up his mission… to remain in this place and teach what he knew."

"Who was he?"

"A very old immortal… likely the eldest of us all at the time. Some residual magic… or the love of his people kept him safe in their midst until I killed him. I've always believed that he chose me for some reason. That he was weary of existence and chose me to carry his message to the future."

"He let you kill him?"

"He dropped his guard and smiled at me in invitation. He'd beaten me… and then he stepped back and smiled. The power of who he was swept over me like being inside fire and ice at the same time. I had the fleeting images of millennia to deal with."

Eleanor let out a long breath. "Millennia… many thousands."

"Yes," Darius replied soberly. "Many thousands… likely more than either of us can imagine possible."

Eleanor stubbornly shook her head. "I'm not giving up my sword."

"Did I ask you to?"

"That, I think was the purpose of your story. Know this priest, I will never be without it. I will never again be the victim of those bigger and more powerful than myself. My weapon protects me from all men… not just immortals. You who are a man may not understand that." She tossed the empty cup to the cape they sat on and hugged her knees while glaring at the men in the distance.

"I begin to understand," Darius remarked soberly. "You are young and still filled with rage. But live long enough… and you will understand."

She looked at the priest without comprehension and shook her head. "That day will never come. Even if _I_ live to be a thousand."

In the distance… bells began to toll the hour.

-----

**Niebos:**

Eleanor woke in a cold sweat and sat up swiftly in the darkness. She gasped for breath as she tried to think where she was and when. Something was ringing. Wiping the sweat from her face, she reached for her phonecard. "Hello?"

"I needed to hear your voice," Methos said. "Are you all right?"

Eleanor bit her lip. She glanced at the still-sleeping Marianna, then rose and opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. She leaned against the railing where she could still see her. "I hoped it was you. I'm fine. Just a nightmare."

"About what?"

"Nothing important… just an old memory of an argument I once had with Darius."

"It woke me up. What brought it on?"

Eleanor ran her fingers through her damp hair. "I guess I was tired… and I was thinking of Derrick earlier… and worrying about him."

"Derrick's not a child, Eleanor. You've seen the photo. He's one of us and he'll have to face what we all face."

"My mind knows that… but my heart doesn't. I don't want that for him. If something of Darius is a part of him… I fear what will happen… how he'll react to a challenge… that I'll never see him again."

"I'm truly sorry I couldn't find him," Methos said ruefully. "But he knows how to contact us… or at least MacLeod."

"Any word from Duncan yet?" Eleanor asked hopefully.

"No… and I'm really put out about this situation. He knows I don't like having to open myself to others. He's left me with quite the mess here."

"Do you think he's with Derrick?"

"Honestly… I don't know. Amanda is still being reticent about whatever their disagreement was. But… I have decided one thing."

"What's that?"

"I'm sending Amanda home to Florence and I'm sending Gina with her. I've tried everything else… maybe being separated for a time will help these two finally make peace with one another and what they've let themselves in for. They love one another… it's just that they weren't ready for the unity bond despite that love."

"Why not send them here?"

"I thought of that, but once I see how well they do separated… I thought I'd bring Robert with me to Niebos. I want to be there when Grace's baby is born and I don't want to leave him somewhere without one of us to help him deal with his and Gina's thoughts and emotions."

"Then you could be here within a few days." Eleanor's spirits were instantly lifted. She had dealt easily with his absence while he was looking for Derrick… but this second one coming so soon upon the first… had bothered her.

"I hope so," Methos continued. "I miss you and the children."

Eleanor smiled. "I… " She bit her lip. "I love you… and the children miss you terribly." For a moment he was with her… she could almost feel his lips brush against hers… and then she was alone again… with the wind blowing coldly on her damp hair and uncovered skin. She felt goose-bumps on her arms and shivered.

He laughed. "What an effect I have on you."

"Come home soon."

"I will. Kiss the kids for me."

She promised and tapped the phonecard off after he rang off. She did miss him… and it pained her that she couldn't say it… that it was still Darius she thought of when the words came to mind… or Derrick. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and shivered as she re-entered her bedroom and closed the door.

At least Marianna hadn't awakened. Eleanor stretched out next to her and curled her fingers about the child's smaller ones. "You were right, Darius. I did learn to walk without fear of men in general. I just wish you'd been here to see it." She closed her eyes and let sleep take her once more.

-----

**_Chateau _de Valicourt:**

As he shut off the phonecard, Methos sighed. _Damn MacLeod for leaving me this mess!_ What he wanted most of all was to be elsewhere and not having to be the frontman for what they wanted. Dammit! He wasn't the one with delusions of being a clan leader and a peacemaker! He had no illusions about remaking the game. He just wanted to be left in peace! But that peace came with a price. If MacLeod weren't able to change the game… to finish solving the puzzle… what sort of future would the children have? Alisaunne was already lost to the game. What would happen when J. D. came of age… or Marianna… or Grace's unborn daughter? Were they being born only to fall victim to a slaughter first begun long before even he had lived? He turned out the lamp and stretched back in the armchair to catch forty winks. He'd make arrangements in the morning for Amanda and Gina to leave. And he still had to arrange for that pesky Watcher to go with them and not remain behind here. As long as Madeline LeSeur was anywhere near Robert… Methos had a feeling that Gina would remain focused on her jealousy… but having the LeSeur woman with her was likely also going to be problematic. _Damn it MacLeod… where are you?_

-----


	29. Chapter TwentyEight

**Chapter Twenty-Eight  
****Alsace-Lorraine:**

The estate was empty. Duncan kicked at some trash on one floor and sighed. This had been the closest of properties that Alistair owned. Duncan had hoped he'd bring Kate here for safety. Evidently not! This place was in bad repair, looking as if it had been centuries since anyone had been here.

And yet… he'd thought when he'd driven up that someone was here. He'd felt it only briefly… that distinctive feel of another immortal in the area. It had been when he'd first turned onto the drive. But if they were here… they were living in squalor. He noted the brown spot on the ceiling near the chimney… and the telltale sign of water damage on what once had been a magnificent parquet floor. The antique dealer in him cringed at the disrepair. A house like this should be kept up… be a monument to the past.

Continuing to make his way through the empty and trash-littered rooms… he continued to be constantly aware of the surrounding area… in case he was right… and there was another immortal here. He wasn't certain if he hoped it was Alistair with Kate or not.

As it happened… it wasn't.

As Duncan was descending the main stairs after his tour of the ruined estate, he sensed someone on the far side of the front door. He put one hand under his lightweight coat to grasp the hilt of his _katana_ and watched the door slowly open. He saw the French cavalry saber before he saw a face.

"I'm Duncan MacLeod," Duncan said clearly and with authority. The clan leader in him hoped this was someone he could reach.

The door opened more widely and a man with a dirty long hair and a dark three-day-old beard, wearing rumpled dark clothing leered at him. "Do tell. The immortals I beheaded spoke your name as if it were a mantra that would protect them."

Duncan gritted his teeth. His jaw worked back and forth intently. "Who did you kill?"

The man shrugged as he replied, hissing slightly, "Didn't get their names. It wasn't important. Names are nothing… the quickening is everything." He moved smoothly into the downstairs ballroom, kicking trash out of his way and sweeping his saber before him in open invitation.

Anger tinged Duncan's thoughts. Maybe they _had_ come here. And this derelict had destroyed them both. Duncan's sword had trembled slightly at the thought of what must have happened. As he touched the main floor, his lip curled slightly… all thoughts of ending the game far from his mind, thrust aside by his anger and fear that Kate and her unborn child had been destroyed. He snarled as he drew his _katana_, tossing his coat to one side, and attacked the other man, slicing forcefully back and forth with both hands on the hilt

"Man… those two guys were right. You _are_ a badass," chuckled the immortal.

Duncan froze. "It was two men?"

"Yeah MacLeod… aren't we usually male… the ones who survive? Women with our gift don't last long in this game."

Duncan arched an eyebrow as he thought of Cassandra, Alex Raven, Kyra, Katherine Sutherland, and Reagan Cole. "You'd be surprised how strong and effective they can be," he remarked. Within him, the anger had cooled so that he was once more thinking clearly. "You took out two at once?" he said smoothly as he shifted his _katana _swiftly before him, setting his feet widely apart in a defensive stance that hid the speed with which he could go on the offensive.

The immortal chuckled. "Yeah. I got them both before the lightning took me. Man it was stupendous getting two at once."

"I'm happy for you," smirked Duncan. He raised his arms and set himself… hopefully ready for anything. If this guy had taken out two immortals at one time… he might be very good indeed. At least it wasn't Kate who'd been killed. He was surprised by how thankful he was at that thought.

His opponent waved his cavalry saber. Duncan noted the dried blood on it, and the spots of rust. "Haven't been taking good care of that, have you?" he taunted as he changed positions so that he held his _katana_ overhand with both hands. Every time his opponent moved, he picked up some little tell of his intentions. Either he was younger than he appeared, or very, very sly. Duncan himself tried to give away as little as possible in his challenges. Perhaps this fellow was the same.

"The edge is plenty sharp, though. It's seen its share of necks," the man cackled and spit unceremoniously into a nearby trash pile. "She'll get the job done." The saber was balanced for one-hand, giving Duncan an edge in the power department. If he could get close enough… he could make short work of this immortal.

The man continued to circle… lunging and feinting first one way and then another… trying to draw Duncan out. The Highlander remained patient. He waited for what was certain to be a swift and decisive move. Finally it came… and he was ready.

Back and forth they parried one another's blows as sparks rained from their blades and the sound of their swords created a staccato beat that one could almost dance to. In a way, that's what it was, a dance… deadly to be sure… but a dance nevertheless.

What was it Phillip had once told him about the symbols… that they could be the steps of the moves within the swordfight? He didn't have time to pursue the thought now… everything he had was focused on deflecting his opponent's hail of blows and avoiding being impaled when he was open.

They fought across the room until Duncan backed up onto the steps. With the high ground his… he changed positions, ready to let gravity help pull the _katana_ down and through his opponent's neck. At that moment… just as he committed himself… the step he was on gave way and he pitched forward… then righted himself as he came down… one foot momentarily trapped in the rotted hole… the other off to one side. Both arms waved as he sought to regain his balance. His advantage for the moment was gone.

The filthy immortal wiped at the stubble on his chin and laughed. "Looks to me like you have a problem." He backed away a few steps to avoid the _katana_ sweeping before him. Then he pulled a small handgun from one pocket and aimed it at Duncan. "Bye now," he teased and fired.

Duncan leaped upward as the gun fired, twisting about and holding his arms in. The hole in the step still grabbed at his foot… but he managed to move anything vital out of the path of the bullet. Instead… he felt it crash into his right kneecap… shattering it. He landed on that knee and nearly collapsed with the pain. Here he was… one foot caught in a rotting hole, the other leg unable to sustain his weight. "Was that how you took two at one time?" he yelled.

The man smirked and aimed again. "Now that wouldn't be fair… would it? But… oh right. I can cheat… but you're a man of honor." He pulled the trigger again.

Duncan forced his weight off of his right leg and onto the trapped one… trying to pivot again. He felt his left knee strain as his weight shifted onto it in the turn. The bullet whizzed past him… scoring his back. He could feel the burning pain of its path and the blood welling up.

He'd always been a fast healer… it had often helped him win battles… but if his opponent landed a clear shot… not all the speed in the world would keep him from losing his head. He roared his defiance as he felt his other knee rip and tear in his attempt to avoid a third shot. He swung the _katana_ around and felt the bullet glance off the blade. By then… he was free of the hole but was headed for the floor. He landed on one shoulder and rolled… trying to dodge the fourth bullet, which dug into the wooden floor where he'd been.

His opponent laughed. "Dang if you aren't a sight… rolling on the floor and bleeding all over it. You don't know when you're beat… do you? Those others were right… you are one sneaky bastard."

Duncan held one hand to his bleeding and still shattered kneecap as he tried to rise… feeling also the pain in the other knee. "You want to know how bad I am. Just bring it on," he snarled. He felt himself sinking into the black pit of anger that he tried to always keep a lid on. He shifted his _katana_ about in one hand.

His opponent paled, then fired once more. The weapon clicked on an empty chamber. "Damn!" he snarled. "I forgot about using two of them shots on those other fellows." He tossed the gun away, grabbed his saber in both hands and roared as he prepared to slam the saber down onto Duncan, still off-balance and clutching his bleeding knee.

As the saber met the _katana_, Duncan suddenly changed from a wounded and half-beaten opponent into one who was on the attack. Using both hands, he whipped the _katana_ around so that it caught the saber in its move and then he pulled against it… causing it to fly from his opponent's hands. He followed through with the move as he suddenly lunged to his feet and slammed his blade into the man's side. Then he grunted as he slid it free, rejoicing in the slicing feel of it as it opened up a huge gash on his opponent's side.

The man howled in pain as he fell to his knees… holding his side and attempting to keep from losing anything vital.

Duncan smirked as he laid the _katana_ on the man's neck. "I've been shot before. I heal quickly."

The man blubbered as he waited, "Just get it over with."

"Who are you?"

"Go to hell!" the man shouted.

"You first," Duncan laughed and drew back for the final cut.

The man tried to dive and roll to one side.

Duncan pivoted and his _katana_ came crashing down on his opponent's neck. The body landed with a _thump_. The head rolled away… and the storm came gushing from the body.

Duncan spread his arms, still gritting his teeth from the pain in his knees and back. But these things would heal. They always did… as long as he kept his head. He'd learned to ignore them… use them to stretch out the fight… to make his opponent believe it was over… when in fact… it was only over for him. As the power crackled into him… filling him until he felt like he would burst… he caught glimpses on Lucas Delbert's life both before and after becoming an immortal. He'd had no teacher and had learned on his own that he had to fight to survive. The gun was his way of evening up the score and getting an advantage. Surprisingly… he'd been rather successful in his fifty or so years in the game. And he'd killed some older ones.

The conflagration roared around the Highlander as he screamed into the maelstrom of power. He felt whipped by the currents of electricity as they surged into him again and again. So caught up in the quickening was he, that he did not notice the arcing bolts that streamed outward, setting fire to the piles of trash, sending flames licking up the rotting walls, engulfing the dust-covered furniture until all was a hellish furnace of light and heat. And Duncan MacLeod was at its core.

As the power lessened and he regained his sense of self… his inner being of Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, he became all too aware of the fire raging about him. Flinging an arm over his face, he raced for the window and shattered it with his _katana_. The inrush of air caused the fire to rush at him as he leaped through the broken window, as if it were a living thing, anxious to devour him.

Duncan hit the moist earth of the weedy flowerbed beneath the window… rolled to escape the flames and to dampen his smoldering linen shirt. His skin felt burned to a crisp. His hands were swollen and red, his _katana_ still hot from the flames. Gingerly he rose and limped further away from what was now a blazing inferno.

His knees were still mending, but he'd been burned before… and nothing was worse than coming back from that. He found he was trembling slightly, shivering in the cool evening air that seemed all the colder after the fire. Making it to his car, he suddenly turned back to the fire and groaned.

His ID, his wallet and cash, his car keys, and his PPC were in the pockets of his coat… the coat he'd shed before the fight… the coat that was now consumed in the fire.

In the distance… he could hear the distinctive sound of approaching sirens. He didn't want to have to answer questions. He didn't want to be on the public grid. There was no help for it. He glanced around as if searching for Delbert's Watcher. He saw no one; not that approaching an unknown Watcher was what he wanted to do.

Already the sirens indicated that the fire engines were turning into the lane. Duncan backed into the nearby shrubbery. He stood beneath the overhanging branches of the fir trees as he watched the authorities attempt to control the blaze. The manor house was obviously a total loss. All the firemen could do was make certain that it didn't spread further.

He could also see a police officer checking out his car and calling to his partner for equipment to break into it. Duncan thought carefully. There was nothing in the car but his overnight bag. There was nothing to identify him.

He flexed his knees, feeling them regain their normal flexibility and strength. It was time to move on. He had a safety deposit box in Geneva that he could draw some funds and a set of papers from. All he needed for access was his signature and his handprint. He still had to find Kate. And, he chuckled; he needed a bath, a new set of clothes, and a phonecard at the very least. Duncan figured he'd cut quite the figure when he made it to the bank. But they were discreet… those Geneva bankers. Their business depended on it.

He threaded his way through the trees. He didn't even have any way at present to hide his _katana_. He'd have to stay off the road and out of sight… and he'd have to figure out a way to conceal it before he went into Geneva. Of course, he still had to get across the border. He had to admit… that despite appearances to the contrary… he felt better than he'd felt in years.

-----

**Washington, D.C.:**

Ryan Coltraine tied his handkerchief over his face as he held his breath. The DC dump, like most dumps, was an olfactory nightmare. His stomach rolled slightly as he passed amongst the heaps attacked periodically by seagulls.

"Tell me again why this is such a good idea?" he called out to the figure of Cecile Marshall as she scrambled up one mountain of plastic bags, food scraps, and disposable diapers. Cecile paused, straightened and looked down at him.

"When was the last time you ever saw someone put trash bags in the trunk of their car and drive to the dump?"

Ryan nodded. The research they'd done on Daryl Miller had led them at last to a warehouse on the edge of town. They'd gorged on bitter coffee and boxed donuts as they'd sat watching the comings and goings there. Other research had confirmed that Miller worked for a small film firm that specialized in pornographic material. Earlier today, everyone had suddenly left the building in the middle of a workday. Shortly later, a man they'd not seen before carried several red trash bags out to the trunk of his car, put them in and drove off.

Cecile had been ecstatic. But Ryan had yet to understand what garbage had to do with finding his assignment, Sarah Manning, nor why she had not been seen in the past week. Cecile sighed. "How often in this day and age does a man in a suit and tie carry out bags of garbage and stow them in the trunk of his car to dump?" she said patiently as if trying to explain the alphabet to a group of six year olds.

Ryan thought carefully. Finally he shrugged. "Maybe the guy was a clean freak or the service didn't pick up?"

"Then why didn't he dump them into the Dumpster in back of the warehouse?"

Ryan's mouth worked up and down but no sound came out.

"And why red bags?"

Ryan grinned sheepishly. "They were on sale?"

Cecile shook her head. "Red bags are more expensive. Hospitals use them to indicate medical waste. They're stronger… less likely to break." She pointed at a lone red bag further up the slope. "And he didn't just come in here and dump them. Look around… he put only one bag per heap." She began climbing again.

Ryan muttered to himself. "So the guy's some Howard Hughes type that likes things just so. What's all this have to do with immortals, anyway?"

"Found it!"

He could see Cecile hunch over the red bag. Suddenly she rose, almost falling backward. She seemed to slip on the slope slightly.

"What is it?" Concerned, Ryan swallowed that sour feeling rising in his throat and scrambled up beside her. At her feet the ripped open bag spilled forth its contents… a human foot and part of an arm. Ryan looked around the site. "How many did he have?"

"I… I… Oh My GOD!" she turned away… losing the breakfast of donuts and coffee as she fell to her knees. Ryan could already see flies buzzing about their find.

"Should we report this to the police?" Ryan finally mumbled softly. He wanted to cry… but it didn't seem manly, especially in light of Cecile's discomfort.

"No," she said standing up and wiping her mouth. "We contact Parker."

"But if this isn't her," Ryan insisted, holding on to the slim hope that it wasn't, "the police should know. We have the license plate number and…"

"… if it _is_ her… we don't want the police to know. It may be another immortal… or maybe there's an immortal working at that place. We need to find out what happened before we call the authorities." She whipped out her cellphone and punched in the number. "Hi… this is Cecile Marshall, Watcher ID 35721. We have a possible body to report."

Ryan listened to Cecile give the clipped report and location as he stared at small globs of red plastic strewn haphazardly about the dump. "Dear God Sarah… what did you get yourself into?"

-----


	30. Chapter TwentyNine

**Chapter Twenty-Nine  
****Yokohama, Japan:**

When he'd been a boy, Kobe had felt lost and alone in the orphanage. While he was not the only child without family ties or even a family name… he chafed under the indignity of being always second class among those who did have them. He'd grown up, an angry and embittered young man, filled with the need to prove his worth. He was often punished for starting fights with other orphans without due cause. It wasn't until the military came to the orphanage that he'd ever discovered what it meant to be a part of something wonderful.

Japan was gearing up for war with the imperialist Americans. There was a place in the military forces for all that wished it. It was here, that Kobe had acquired mentors and father figures in the stern officers, and brothers among the other young men being trained as pilots. He was finally complete, in his dedication to country and emperor. As a child, he'd reveled in the tales of the distant past, and the code of the _samurai_. As a pilot, he would give his all for his country.

Towards the end of the war, when things were getting desperate, he and several of his comrades volunteered to become part of the divine wind… _kamikaze_. They would deal out death from above by crashing their fuel-laden planes into the American ships. The _gaijin_ would pay a heavy price for attacking Japan.

On the day of his mission, he'd humbly accepted the white silk scarf and bound his brow with prayers written on it in red ink. He'd prayed humbly at the shrine that he might acquit himself well, and had waved to others on the carrier as he'd climbed into his plane… ready to die for his emperor.

The flight had been reasonably short. Kobe had flown high in the clear sky, filled with a sense of righteousness. His target looked like a tiny toy boat lost on the face of the immense aquamarine ocean. When the command was given… he'd dived in the sure and certain belief that paradise awaited him. His life would at last have meaning… and his name honored on the wall of heroes.

The crash and resultant explosion he'd only barely been aware of. Kobe knew it would be a momentary pain… and then all would be well. He was wrong.

He awoke in hell. His body, wracked by pain was lost in a liquid reality that burned his skin. Again and again he gasped for breath and died. Again and again he awoke to a moment's hellish torture until at last… the pain faded… and he could breath once more. Looking around, he found himself floating alone on the face of the ocean. Even death had rejected him. He was unworthy. He ceased trying to float… determined to drown. But the waters of death did not receive him.

Again and again he tried until he felt himself pulled out of the water and laid on a stretcher. "He's one of ours," an unknown voice said. "But how? There's nothing here he could have come from."

A sudden explosion of pain in his head caused him to draw up into a ball as he coughed and spit seawater from his mouth.

"Take him below and let him sleep. I will speak with him later," came the voice of authority.

So it was that Kobe Shinaru came to meet Hikaru Masahiro and learned that they were immortal… and would one day fight for the prize.

"What is this prize?" Kobe had asked his teacher during the long years of his training.

"Perhaps it is only death," his teacher had said softly. "Perhaps it is an end of all things. Or perhaps it is a chance to grow old and die with honor."

Kobe had bowed humbly and felt his imagination inflamed. "Death and honor would be a very great prize indeed, Masahiro-_sama_," he replied. He'd faced several challenges through the decades that followed his revival. He was a veritable buzz saw of moves and intent. His challenges died quickly before him. He had yet to meet one whose will to be the best… to give all for the prize met his own. Now, today, having reached the age of one hundred, he had decided to achieve his goal. Once more he would challenge Masahiro. Surely he was at last worthy enough for his old master to accept the challenge. They would be alone. Darkness was already closing about them. Within the secluded walled garden, Kobe would challenge his master. Surely he was at last worthy to face death. Surely his master would not laugh and turn away. Kobe would not allow it. Not this time. Not tonight.

He paused on the path below the wide front porch over-looking the garden, instantly aware that Masahiro-_sama_ was not alone. Kobe could feel others here… other immortals. And… he was certain… they felt him.

He postured on the garden path, sweeping his _katana_ before him and issued his challenge. "I am Kobe. Let he who is without fear meet me in ritual combat."

In the lantern's light, he saw Masahiro rise and gaze at him sadly. "Go home Kobe. This is not the day to die."

"Then one of your guests, _sensei_. Surely one of them is without fear. I will not leave until one of you answers my challenge. I will, if necessary, wait on the road. I will not be put off!"

He heard the soft murmuring of voices in the darkness. Finally a tall _gaijin_ stepped forward. "Is this what you truly seek?"

"_Hai!_" Kobe replied. "I seek an honorable combat."

"Would you not rather see the world?" the voice of the tall man asked.

"This world holds nothing for me. But I warn you. I will not go easily. You must best me!"

"Why?"

"There can be only one!" Kobe shouted. Obviously this _gaijin_ was a fool. Then he saw him clearly as he stepped to the top of the stairs, a massive two-handed broadsword in his hands. Broad-shouldered with light brown hair, he stood confidently there and looked down at Kobe with a sad but thoughtful expression.

"Are you so certain about that?" the _gaijin_ asked softly.

"Face me now if you have the courage!" Kobe shouted more insistently. Did this immortal understand nothing? "Let he who is the best emerge victorious and continue the fight for honor."

The man turned and said something to Masahiro, who gestured as if to grant his permission. The _gaijin_ bowed and descended the steps. His woman, if she were indeed his, rose with a cry. Masahiro held her back, admonishing her to obey the rules. "Challenge tendered and challenge accepted. You cannot interfere."

"Ya don't understand," she cried.

By this time the tall man stood easily before Kobe. He bowed slightly. "Derrick Foster."

Kobe hissed and gave his name. "Prepare yourself _gaijin_," he warned and then attacked.

-----

For Amber, it was nightmare. Just as when he'd faced Caspar Wingate a few months ago, Amber feared for Derrick. He didn't know… he didn't understand what might happen. She kicked herself mentally that she'd never fully explained the loss of self that could happen. Sure… Derrick could likely defeat the other immortal… but did he have the ability to kill him? Would he be prepared for what happened after? She fought to claw her way free of Masahiro's iron grip.

"Ya don't understand! He's not ready for this!"

"Then it is time he was," Masahiro explained. "Kobe will offer no quarter… nor will he accept it if offered. It is a fight to the death. It is an honorable challenge."

Amber froze. She stopped struggling as the two combatants circled around one another and moved away from the house and down into the dark garden, lit here and there by lanterns in the trees. It was a wonderland… but one that would soon be a killing ground. She could taste bitter bile in her mouth. She moaned and shook her head, wanting to look away… but fearful of doing so. Without even being aware of it… as the initial blows were traded, Amber held her breath.

-----

Watching his opponent's economical moves and lack of tells, Derrick realized that despite Kobe's relative youth, he was well trained. He noted a few of Masahiro's trademark moves in Kobe's opening. As his opponent swung down on him, Derrick, instead of mounting a block or a defense, moved swiftly to the left. He watched as Kobe wheeled on him immediately, stopping the follow-through of his attack and altering it to a defensive one. He evidently fully expected Derrick to attempt a blow to his open side. He seemed rather surprised when Derrick did nothing.

After a torrent of curses which evidently held Derrick's non-existent parents in low regard, Kobe shifted back and stood sideways, his _katana_ seemingly at rest. His dark eyes glittered, as he remained perfectly still, awaiting Derrick's next move.

Derrick smiled inwardly. Masahiro had taught him that fights are often fought without a blow being struck. That sometimes, one can see the entire fight in the movements of an opponent's eyes. Derrick kept his still, and focused on Kobe who did the same. It was a waiting game now… one that would play out in their minds. One that would be decided quickly when one of them made a move.

In the heat of the summer night, Derrick felt perspiration form and begin to trickle down the side of his face. He refused to blink it away, letting it pool slightly in his left eye before runneling down his cheek and dripping from his chin. Likely Kobe was feeling the same. Derrick heard mosquitoes buzzing in the dark. Soon… one would land and begin to feed.

On the porch of Masahiro's house, Derrick could hear Amber's protestations. But he had no time to even glance at her. To do so would be to give Kobe an advantage. Unless…? Derrick's mind flickered through several scenarios… yet each of them seemed to end in a draw. Unless he knew more about Kobe's abilities… this fight was already a draw. But he wanted it to be a draw… didn't he? Around Kobe, Derrick could sense the black and angry aura of someone in deep emotional pain. Did this man truly want to die? Derrick didn't think so. Surely… if he could offer another way… Kobe would listen. But he'd have to get him to listen. His decision made, Derrick stepped right… letting his left foot cross over before his right as he twirled the Great Sword in his hands, letting one hand and then the other grasp the hilt as he moved it. For a moment… some fleeting memory crossed his mind and he could almost hear and sense the battle raging around him. He pushed the memory away. His battle was here… and now.

Kobe's eyes widened slightly. He changed his relaxed stance to one with the _katana_ overhead… the sharp edge to heaven. He was ready to either block Derrick's stroke… or to remove his head. Derrick continued moving to the right, his blue eyes never leaving Kobe's dark ones. "What do you hope to gain?" Derrick asked.

"Honor!" Kobe assured him with a snarl.

"Are you so certain of that?" Derrick continued.

Kobe yelled and sliced forward and down. Derrick moved out of the way and slammed the Great Sword flat against Kobe's back so that he struggled for his balance. Angrily Kobe whipped around so that the two blades met with a fearsome _clang_! Three times the blades met… each blow deftly blocked and parried.

The combatants withdrew. Kobe shook the sweat dripping from his hair onto his face away and curled a lip. Derrick resumed his sideways movement and the hypnotic twirl of the Great Sword. Again at his back… he could hear battle sounds. It was unnerving. Again he focused his attention on his opponent. Whatever this was bothering him… it would have to wait.

Kobe hissed, noting Derrick's momentary inattention and attacked again. Again… Derrick managed to evade the blow and to deflect the _katana_. They traded a few more blows before withdrawing. By this time, the smaller Kobe found he was breathing in burning gasps of air. This _gaijin_ was both well trained… and despite the feel to him as one who had little experience… he was physically strong. Kobe smiled. This might yet be an interesting match.

He drew in a deep breath and pivoted to follow Derrick's movements… all the while continuing to hold his _katana_ steady over his head again. He tried not to blink… or look at where he wanted to go… or where he thought Derrick might be moving.

Derrick suddenly pulled back and raised the Great Sword behind him with both hands. His weight was on his rear leg. He was as ready as he would ever be. He'd seen enough in the few moves he'd drawn out of Kobe. It wasn't much… but it was enough. Then he launched forward… swinging with both arms as powerfully as he could.

Kobe grinned. He had him… He saw the opening and stepped forward… pulling his _katana_ down swiftly and powerfully.

Derrick's lunge turned sideways as the _katana_ came down as he expected. He shifted the Great Sword forward and gave it a twist, circling the _katana_ and catching it up in a disarming movement that Methos had once taught him. The _katana_ flew into the air. Derrick reached out and caught it even as he laid the Great Sword on Kobe's neck. As he caught the _katana_… he laid it on the other side. "Want to talk?"

Kobe's mouth moved up and down… but no sound came out at first. He glanced each way at the swords poised and ready to end his existence if he even moved. "You want to talk?" he finally said. "I have nothing to say." Choosing his own blade, as he knew how sharp the edge was… he dove to his right. Derrick flinched a moment and then, as the blade sliced partially through his opponent's neck… pulled it back.

"Finish it!" thundered Masahiro from the porch. "You cannot leave him like that."

Derrick saw that Kobe's eyes had rolled back until only the whites shown. Besides blood, there was a thin line of bright light along his opponent's neck. The sounds of battle at Derrick's back were silenced. He could once more hear the hum of the mosquitoes. Kobe weaved around for a moment… still on his feet… not quite dead… not quite alive. Derrick grimaced at the sight, then mercifully swung the _katana _in again.

Head and body easily parted company. For a moment that was all. The head hit the earth with a _thud_ and rolled a few feet away. The body slumped slowly down. Derrick glanced up at the porch as if seeking answers. Then he saw it… as he'd seen it that day so long before on a beach in France… the slow emanation of power from the neck of the defeated. Like a mist rising from water on a cool morning… blue-white it rose in the darkness. For a moment it seemed to hang ghostlike in the air… then it began to glow, shot through with small bursts of energy. Derrick dropped the _katana_ and stepped back nervously. The glowing mist kept rising and coalescing until it was all about him. He waved his hands at it. As if in answer to his movement, it seemed to head heavenward and circle about him before diving into him… much as Kobe's airplane had once dived into the American destroyer. It exploded about Derrick and he stumbled backward… unable to breath. Then it exploded out of him in dozens of thick tendrils that starburst about him like the fireworks of the ancient Chinese.

Derrick had never felt so lost… and so uncertain of himself. _Who am I?_ Visions of Kobe's life and the lives of the two dozen or so immortals he'd killed in his century of life whisked through his mind like a film on fast forward. Interspersed with the visions… many oddly in black and white… were visions of startling color and clarity… of ancient battles and of unrestrained bloodshed. He fell to his knees as the screams of horses and the cries of the dying about him filled his ears. Slumping to one side as the explosions ended… and the lightning faded, he twitched in unbelievable agony as the visions fought for supremacy in his mind.

He felt the unbelievable presence of another and lifted both hands to his head as he groaned. Amber's soothing voice worked its way into his struggle. "Relax… don't fight it. Make it part of ya." He shivered and pulled into himself… unable to bear her nearness. He rolled away… feeling as though he were drowning in time.

-----

Masahiro grunted as he watched Amber cradle young Derrick's head. The young man was unusual… he'd felt it years before when he'd trained him… but in his two centuries of life… he'd never seen any of them react to a quickening in this manner. Of course… all handled it differently. He sighed as he stood looking down at the head and body of Kobe Shinaru. His young pupil had always felt cheated somehow that an honorable death eluded him. Well he'd found it now.

Masahiro strode purposely to the small garden shed. They'd have to deal with the body quickly… before first light. Thankfully… he'd always been prepared for such an eventuality. He hoped that any neighbors who'd seen or heard the explosions would think of them as someone setting off small fireworks. He pulled two shovels from the shed, tossing one on the ground next to Derrick and amber. "I require assistance."

Amber glared up at him a moment, pausing in her soothing words and her caressing of Derrick's brow. The young man moaned in his delirium as he shuddered in her arms. "He needs me," she spat at Masahiro.

"It must be done!" The immortal turned and strode to a small area of tilled earth beneath a cherry tree and began to dig.

A few moments later Derrick opened his eyes and gazed mournfully up at Amber. "What have I done?"

"What we all do," she replied. "Fight for our lives."

Derrick closed his eyes once more and nodded… then sat up. Seeing the shovel laying there, he grabbed it as he rose and stumbled over to his former teacher to help him with the digging.

By dawn, they'd dug the hole, placed Kobe's head and body within it, covered it with lye, and then filled it in.

Amber watched Derrick go through motions as if he were on autopilot. His sense of humor and his positive attitude apparently banished… at least for the moment.

Once the ground had been raked smooth, and a few disturbed plants returned to their positions so that nothing looked disturbed, the three immortals stood quietly over the grave.

Masahiro took a deep breath, seeming to growl slightly as he exhaled it. "You spoke of traveling. Today I think would be a good day to leave this place."

"What about someone finding this?" Amber asked.

"It may be found eventually. But I will not sell the property or deed it to anyone for a number of years, nor let anyone live here. I will likely deed it to myself in a few decades and return once all those living in this area have returned to their ancestors."

"Do you think we have them?" Derrick asked morosely and then glanced hopefully at Masahiro. "Ancestors… I mean. Were there those who were before us?"

Masahiro shrugged. "Does it matter? We are what we are. Come, let us bathe and leave before my housekeeper arrives for the day."

"You're coming with us, then?"

Masahiro paused on his way back to the house. "_Hai_! I think that might be a wise idea. I had thought to travel into China for a bit… but I will sail with you for a time. I would see how this group of immortals exist without fighting… without the game."

For the first time since taking Kobe's head, Derrick smiled.

-----


	31. Chapter Thirty

**Chapter Thirty  
****Washington, D.C.:**

Raking in a harsh, burning breath, Sarah arched her back and felt like screaming. Since her first death at the hands of one of her clients, she'd only died one other time, and that had been early on in her immortal life. She'd not believed what her teacher Cassandra was telling her about immortality. So Cassandra had shot her with the small derringer that she kept in her bag. Sarah had determined after that, there would be no repeat performances. She hated the pain, and she hated being vulnerable. Anything could happen while one was dead.

She fumbled beneath the white, silk sheet covering her to feel where the sword had been thrust into her chest. It still hurt… or was it the memory of that fatal thrust and the terror that had accompanied it. Her skin beneath her fingertips was flawless… and gave no testament to the wound that had been there.

She began to sob… partially in relief… partially because the stress of the situation was taking its toll on her emotionally. When she finally calmed, she leaned up on her elbows and looked around to get her bearings.

This room, immaculate and white, was a far cry from the filthy set she'd been imprisoned on. Gone was the mattress with its dubious stains upon stains. Gone were the handcuffs and shackles that had kept her there. Gone also were the camera and film crew. Cocking her head, Sarah could feel a nearby immortal… likely Kingsley. Sniffing the air, she thought she could detect the odor of his omnipresent cigar. He was likely in the next room.

Sarah noticed sunlight filtering through the thin sheers covering glass along one wall of the room. All for getting out of here, she tossed back the sheet and rose, stopping only as she considered that she was nude. Her chestnut hair fluttered about her… clean and smelling of some floral shampoo. Sarah made a face at the scent. It reminded her of the smell of the cheap rose water that had been the rage over a century ago for the less economically favored. The scent of florals all too often reminded her of her beginnings. Noticing the drawers in the white lacquered dresser, she crossed to it and pulled them open. Empty! She flung back the mirrored doors of the closet along one wall… again… there was nothing there. She reached back and pulled the top sheet from the bed and tied it around her. She glanced at the ceiling corners as if expecting to see a camera there… but saw nothing except the white ceiling fan spinning slowly.

Satisfied that she was at least covered, she pulled back the sheers and stared out at a wide balcony. Also seeing the roofs of nearby buildings, she surmised she was in some penthouse suite. The next thing that she noticed was that the window was solid. Evidently no sliding glass door had ever been here. Looking about, she noticed a brass floor lamp and ripped off the parchment shade as she hefted the lamp and rammed it against the window. It rebounded. Evidently it would take more than that to break the glass. And then what? She'd be on the balcony of a skyscraper with no way down and an immortal nearby. She could jump, she supposed, but shuddered at the thought. He might claim her body anyway and bring her back.

Reluctantly she replaced the lamp and the shade. Maybe another time… when Kingsley wasn't here… she could make the attempt.

Sarah crossed to the door and laid her ear against it. Yes… there was definitely an immortal on the other side. She glanced about for anything she could use as a weapon or defense. Nothing presented itself besides the unwieldy lamp. She glanced in the small bathroom, again wrinkling her nose at the floral smell redolent in the air. He'd brought her here… bathed her… and put her into a clean bed. Sarah shivered wondering what else he might have done. One hand massaged her throat… still wondering why he'd not taken her head. He'd been interested in Ben… well not Ben… but in some friend of Ben's. That's when he'd seemed interested in her. Perhaps she could use that. She could play along with him until she could make her escape.

She set her smile in place, turned and opened the door leading to the next room.

If the bedroom had been light, white, and airy, the next room… the main room… was anything but. It seemed almost steamy by contrast. The smell of the cigar didn't help as it made each breath she drew one of fire. The darkly painted walls and dark furniture reminded Sarah of the parlors of her youth. The ones where the men would sit with their cigars and ogle and judge the parade of femininity being offered for the evening. This was more modern, true… almost sleek… but she still had the feeling she was being judged.

As she entered, she noted the small kitchenette and bar to her right and the archway to a small foyer. She pretended no interest in the route of escape, and focused instead on the figure of Martin Kingsley, nattily dressed in pressed charcoal slacks with a crisp pleat, and a dove gray silk shirt with matching tie. He was looking at her sharply as she sauntered toward him.

"You should have waited until I woke up for your fun," she smirked as she struck a pose.

Kingsley drew in on his cigar deliberately… then tapped the ash into a small ashtray before laying the cigar in it. He held out a hand.

Sarah smiled thinly and stepped forward, expecting to be pulled onto his lap. Instead, He yanked her to her knees and twisted her arm behind her. She could feel the sudden snap of small bones in her hand. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

With his other hand, he ripped the sheet from her. "Sheets are for the bed!" he hissed. He dragged her by her hair back into the bedroom and shoved her to the floor against the bed. Tossing the sheet at her he said menacingly, "Make the bed."

"Sorry I don't make beds… only use them…" she began and was rewarded with a roundhouse punch to her mouth. Blood spurted and teeth felt loose. Her nose was bleeding… and obviously broken.

"Now make the bed. Nice and neat. I want to see hospital corners," he ordered her with one hand pointed at the bed.

Sarah didn't argue. She rose and cupped one hand over the free-flowing blood as she attempted to make the bed. He tapped on her shoulder. She flinched but he was only offering her a handkerchief. She nodded her thanks and pressed it to her face. A few moments later, the bleeding had stopped, but it was still swollen and painful. He held out his hand for the handkerchief. "Now wash up and then make the bed."

Sarah did so. She hadn't made beds since she was thirteen and had moved from drudge at the house to being one of the "ladies". But she remembered how. Madame Claire had been a real stickler for starched white sheets, duly ironed and smoothed on the beds. After each use, the beds had been stripped and remade with clean linen. They'd gone through a lot of linen some nights.

Satisfied that she'd done the best she could, Sarah stepped back.

Kingsley nodded. "From now on, when you rise, you will make the bed." He grabbed her arm and pushed her back into the other room.

"I needed something to wear!" she pouted slightly.

"You need only what I give you. When you earn clothes… you'll have them!" he spat as he shoved her onto the sofa. Then he returned to his armchair, picked up his cigar, tapped off the ash and took another deep draw on it as he crossed his legs and regarded her.

Sarah crossed her legs and held her hands over her breasts. This certainly wasn't going the way she'd thought it would. She felt vulnerable and exposed. She didn't like the feeling.

Kingsley laughed. "Not used to not having your own way… eh?"

Sarah shrugged, fearful of saying anything that would prompt him to hit her again. The pain in her mouth and nose had stopped, but she refused to touch them, fearful that to do so would stop the healing, or let her know how bad she looked. In her mouth… two teeth were still loose.

Another draw on the cigar. "So… tell me about you and the good doctor."

Sarah swallowed as she thought frantically for a lie that he would believe. "He was the first immortal I met after my death." She smiled and moved one shoulder slightly as if that explained things. "We were good for each other."

"And you don't recall a man with him? Medium height, usually bearded, a bit portly?" Kingsley asked. "He might have used Gerard, or Phillips, or Madison as part of his name."

Sarah shook her head. "Ben was alone at the time. I moved on after being trained. I saw him recently and he gave me a picture of where he was living now."

"A picture?"

Sarah smiled more broadly. "It was in my purse. Do you have my purse?"

Kingsley spat as he pulled the cigar from his mouth. "Damn that Miller! He didn't bring me a purse."

"Well… I need the photograph to find him. It's of an island."

"Where?"

Sarah licked her lips, again uncertain as to how much to tell him and how much to try lying about. "Greece, I think."

Kingsley's face broke into a predatory grin. "Greece? Gerard was likely Greek. Would you recognize it again if you saw it?"

"I suppose," she lied.

Kingsley rose and motioned her to join him at the table near the window. Red sheers covered this window so that what light filtered through gave a bloody hue to everything. On the table was a notebook-sized computer. Sarah whistled. In her time in the government the last few decades she had seen and used many types of computers. This was one of the super-powerful ones. Not as portable and easy to carry as the standard PPC's… it generally served people as their home machine.

She slid into a chair and expertly booted it up. Even without her addresses and codes on her PPC, she still knew enough to use a search program to show various Greek Islands. The picture she'd stolen from the little girl's room looked professionally made. Perhaps the same picture would be on-line. Sarah could only wish for that. At the same time, she was reluctant to find it… at least not with Kingsley standing over her shoulder. While he said he wasn't interested in Ben… he might be. While Sarah wanted to find Ben… and possibly eliminate or woo him away from his current wife for herself… she didn't want him dead. Nor did she want to do anything that might cause him to turn away from her forever.

After a good hour of going through travel pages on Greece, Kingsley leaned over and shut the machine off. "That's enough for now."

"If you have to leave, I can continue to work," Sarah said pleasantly. "Or perhaps we can adjourn to more pleasant activities?" She gave him a knowing look.

Kingsley slammed it shut, nearly breaking her fingers. "Only when I'm here. Do you take me for a fool that I would leave you with access to the outside world?"

Sarah paled. "Of course not." She meekly laid her throbbing hands in her lap.

"Then we try again tomorrow. But since you had no luck today, I think a little lesson is in order."

"Lesson?" Sarah didn't like the sound of that.

She barely got the question out before he laced his fingers into her hair and pulled her along with him toward a door on the far side of the main room and leading to another room that Sarah had not seen. She clamped down, trying to show neither fear nor pain.

He switched on a light-switch as they entered the otherwise dark room. Sarah struggled to be free or him when she saw the padded and insulated walls covered with dark maroon splotches. In the center was a rack of some sort with rusty shackles. He pulled her to face him and slammed a fist into her face again. She moaned as her knees buckled.

As he bent her over the rack and attached the shackles, he laughed. "I usually have to be so gentle with the mortal women I bring here. I've never had an immortal one to play with. I wonder how much you can take? After all… if you die, you'll heal and then come back. We can do this again and again. I don't have to worry about you dying unless I take your pretty little head… which I won't."

Once she was shackled over the rack, Sarah watched as Kingsley set his cigar in an ashtray and looked at several things on a long table. He finally selected a heavy lead pipe and slapped it into his palm a few times as he leered at her menacingly. "I think we can dispense with the switches. Something with more weight to it is required."

"Please," Sarah said following the movement of the pipe, "I can be very agreeable. I've very well versed in things as you saw in the film studio."

"Oh my dear. I never mix business with pleasure. And you my dear… are business. But one has to have a clear understanding of what is required. You will search again tomorrow… and if you find nothing… this lesson will be repeated."

He stepped forward and slammed the pipe across her back.

Sarah screamed.

The second blow shattered one of her femurs. By the time the third blow landed… she was unconscious.

-----

"It's not her," Beatrice Carter, the morgue analyst said as she entered John Parker's office and nodded to Cecile and Ryan. "From what we've been able to tell from the remains of the head, she was Asian. We're doing some tissue analysis to be certain."

"Thank god," Ryan mumbled as he collapsed into a chair.

"Then who was she?" Cecile wondered aloud.

"Likely another young woman caught up in this film scam. Maybe a quite willing one who had outlived her usefulness."

"We have to let the police know!" Ryan said. "This is murder!"

"And how do we explain knowing what we know and why we hid the body?" John rocked slightly in his chair. "Besides… if we alert the authorities… and an immortal _is_ involved… Sarah Manning will likely breathe her last."

"We can't… _not…_ do anything!" Ryan exploded.

"No… we can't," Parker admitted. "Which is why I'm calling in one of our experts to deal with this. He's had experience in this sort of thing, and he has credentials that will satisfy the authorities if it comes to it." Parker picked up his phone. "Denise… get me Burt Meyers in Paris."

-----


	32. Chapter ThirtyOne

**Chapter Thirty-One  
****_Chateau _de Valicourt:**

Methos watched calmly as the **_Lamborghini_** with Amanda and Gina spun off. Gina had dug in her heels about taking Madeline with them. "Let her go back to her people," Gina had sniffed. She really wanted nothing to do with the young Watcher, and frankly, Methos couldn't blame her.

In the end, Methos had agreed. But getting Madeline to actually leave… and to keep Robert's thoughts off of her when he saw her would be difficult. The young woman was either quite the con artist, or the most naive young woman Methos had ever met. He found it hard to believe that anyone could be that oblivious about the effect they had on men. Even he wasn't immune. There were moments when he wondered how she'd taste if he kissed her. He'd always had a thing for mortal women. They were so much more uncomplicated. And they never forced him to make a lifelong commitment. He shivered slightly, feeling cold sweat run down his spine. Long ago he'd made an exception with the young pre-immortal Aella… and somehow… even after her first death and her insistence that they were no longer married… he'd welcomed whatever time they had together over the centuries as a respite from the vagaries of existence. Eleanor had come to be someone he could rest with… and not have to put on the cold and world-weary face he so often presented to the world. She was someone he could be himself with… even when she didn't know his name.

And now? He'd committed to her… and he couldn't even imagine breaking that commitment. He waved to the swiftly departing car with a slight sigh. He wanted to go home… he wanted MacLeod to deal with this… he wanted to rest. He turned toward the morose Robert.

"She hates me," Robert was saying.

"She doesn't hate you," Methos assured him. "She loves you. But she needs to be assured of your love for her."

Robert turned, shoving his hands into his pants pockets as he stepped alongside Methos. "But I do love her. I try to think that at her as often as I can… like you suggested. But she doesn't seem to hear or sense me."

Methos shrugged and fell into an easy pace alongside the Frenchman. "As I said… perhaps a short time apart will help. This is all new territory for me. I only know what worked in my case. We were apart for a while mid-way into the joining… and it only seemed to make both of us want it more. Maybe this is what is needed. I don't have the answers."

Robert nodded as they walked. Methos could hear the crunch of the clay gravel beneath their feet as they paced about the courtyard. Near the door of the _chateau_ he could see Madeline sitting on a bench and watching them wistfully. He looked away. "Madeline's presence is definitely an impediment to your happiness."

"But it's not her fault," Robert said, sneaking a glance at the young Watcher. He sighed and then seemed to wince. "Gina can certainly send the equivalent of a slap when she wants."

Methos laughed. "I get more of a teasing laugh."

Robert sighed. "But Gina is my whole world. Day in and day out for three hundred years… all I've ever wanted is her."

"And you two still weren't really ready for this."

Robert's hand brushed his forehead. "I guess we never really considered what it would mean to be so totally one. You and Eleanor seemed to handle it so well."

Methos shrugged. "It took us a long time to get there… which is why we told you to wait until you were certain… until nothing else but that made sense."

"We _were _certain," Robert protested. Then his shoulders sagged as he admitted, "But certainty and readiness were evidently two different things."

"Eleanor and I drifted into and out of one another's lives for over a thousand years. We both had other relationships. Sometimes even being in the same room together was dangerous for us… so volatile were we at times. We came so close over a century ago… and then backed out… commitment for all time still seemed too much to comprehend."

"And now?"

Methos smiled, feeling a feather soft touch of agreement. "I need to go to Paris. I've a friend in the Watchers who might help us with our little blonde-bombshell."

Robert looked back at her with a nod. "She is that." He shook his head. "I've never cheated on Gina and I'm not about to… but Madeline does make me wonder."

Methos nodded in agreement. "Yes… she does."

Both men looked back at the blonde who was even now stretching her legs out before her in the sun and tossing back her head as she grinned into the rays of the sun warming her face.

Robert sighed and said quickly, "She has her own car. She needs to follow us… not ride with us."

Methos nodded. "Definitely!" he agreed with a bit more assertiveness than was absolutely necessary. Inwardly, he hope that somehow Joe could make the young woman understand that her presence was an irritant and that it was not a demotion to be transferred from her assignment. What worried Methos was her mentioning what had happened or appeared to have happened in her reports. While Joe and a select few other Watchers… mostly his daughter Amy and the others who'd been watching Methos and Eleanor in the past dozen years, knew of the joining, it was not something that Methos thought should be widely known. At least, not yet! He and Eleanor had discussed it only with three other couples. If it was some part of the immortal future… others should be able to do it. He just wished that the de Valicourts had waited and had gone ahead only after some additional discussions with Eleanor and him. Their long relationship was definitely an indicator that they were ready for this. He sighed. "Let's get our belongings and hit the road." He was anxious to get this over with… and he was anxious to get to Niebos and his family. He had a strange prickling at the base of his skull as if he'd been too long away from there already.

-----

**Niebos:**

Greg glanced at the EEG readout for Kenny and nodded to the others. They'd moved the boy out of the ward in the last week and into a private room. John stood by Kenny's bedside and Eleanor was at the foot of the bed. Gently she pushed a reluctant Marianna forward. "Do you see him?"

"The boy in the well," Marianna said brightly and grinned over at her mother.

"Try to talk to him," Eleanor urged. Her heart was in her mouth… not certain at all that Kenny should be awakened.

Marianna turned and stood on tiptoes as she tried to look into Kenny's unconscious face. For a moment nothing happened.

"Getting a spike in the EEG," Greg said softly.

Then Marianna tilted her head and said, "Hello boy."

Kenny's unseeing eyes fluttered slightly. His body tensed.

Marianna waved at him to join her.

He saw her. He had to see her. But would he awaken? Eleanor bit her lip. Every instinct she possessed, said to gather Marianna into her arms and flee this room. Resolutely she remained still. John met her gaze. His hand tightened on the sword in his hand as he offered her a weak smile.

Eleanor glanced over at the doorway where Carl Robinson and Denara waited.

Kenny shook his head. His back arched slightly as Marianna called his name. "Hi Kenny!" Again she waved at him. For a moment she glanced at her mother as if wondering if this was what to do… and then she locked her eyes on Kenny's.

-----

Kenny screamed profanity at the little girl. He could tell she was saying something… but all he heard was the thump of his own heart. Likewise, she didn't appear to hear him. He could feel immortals around him. He often felt them… on the far side of the well's wall. But today… he sensed that they were closer than that. Somehow they were here… but he couldn't see them.

The little girl lifted a hand toward him and smiled.

Kenny stared at that hand and wondered what would happen. Usually when he rushed at her… she dematerialized and never before had she held out a hand. She seemed so real. He focused on her hand… and then on clasping it. Strangely… his own hands wouldn't cooperate. They seemed as if made of stone. He focused everything on his left hand, suddenly feeling as if he had to move it… that it was his only way out. His fingers twitched.

He tried again.

-----

"His fingers are twitching," John said calmly in that low soft voice he had.

At the doorway, Carl Robinson held his breath. He had vague memories of awakening on a dark path and of seeing and hearing John call his name again and again. He knew him for the immortal he'd fought and lost to in the arena. Yet John's voice was not the voice of the man he fought. It was the voice of a man filled with guilt. Carl had finally responded to that insistent voice. Powers, Robinson knew, had taken the boy's head in the dream world. But the boy had never reacted to him. One hand rested lightly on Denara's shoulder. He worried about the small ones… and about the children. Although he could not express himself in words… language not being something he had quite mastered again, Carl Robinson understood that awakening this small one from his sleep was worrisome to the others. He vowed to keep an eye on Kenny if he did awaken.

The boy's back arched up off of the bed's surface and his slack mouth began working up and down… as a moan issued. His twitching fingers seemed to strain to reach Marianna's hand. She leaned forward and touched him.

The monitoring machines beeped in their urgency and the EEG printout showed massive activity. Marianna's small hand slipped into Kenny's limp one and he seemed to relax. Then his eyes darted around at the rest of them… sheer terror on his face. He gave an unarticulated cry of pain and fear.

Eleanor swooped around and pulled Marianna away from the bedside. Carl stepped forward and gathered the child into his arms and took off towards the house. "Protect!" was the one word that formed in his mind.

John brushed Kenny's hair from his eyes and smiled. Gently he said, "You're safe here Kenny." John's hand relaxed its grip on the unseen blade. "No one will hurt you."

Kenny's eyes widened and he shook. Eleanor leaned over him. "I know you can see and feel us Kenny. I know you're frightened. You have no idea what's going on. But everything will be explained."

Kenny managed to raise his hand barely off of the bed and reached for Eleanor's hand. She clasped it firmly. Kenny nodded and then closed his eyes, evidently exhausted.

Eleanor looked at Greg. He smiled. "It shows normal activity. He's asleep. Really asleep! It worked."

Denara eased up beside the bed. "Do you still want me to hang around?"

Eleanor nodded as she pulled her hand loose from Kenny's and tucked his beneath the covers. "I'd prefer he not have access to the children. If he wakes and sees you… maybe he'll think that it was you he saw."

"Why do you think he responded to her," Greg murmured.

"I don't know," Eleanor replied honestly. "I don't know."

"Each case might be different," John suggested. "But each time we manage to bring one back… we have more data to work with." He smiled at Greg. "Some part of him lies with you just as some part of Carl will always be with me. Now that he's awake… you might be able to reach him. Carl usually responds better to me than to anyone else."

The others nodded.

Kenny moaned in his sleep and thrashed slightly.

Greg moved to his side. "He's frightened. I do get that from him. Maybe there are too many of us here."

Eleanor nodded and clasped Denara's hand as she headed to the office. "We'll be nearby."

"I need to check on Grace and make certain she's fine," John said as he stood.

Greg nodded and turned from him. He didn't want the elder immortal to see the pain and longing in his expression.

"Call out if you need us," John said gently as he squeezed Greg's shoulder before leaving.

Greg settled into the chair at Kenny's bedside and waited.

-----

The moss-covered stone walls of the well had faded to a ghostly shadow. The hospital room… so long a shadow on the far side of the stones was now more real. Kenny's confused mind knew only that there were other immortals here… and that he had to be prepared. But first… he needed to sleep and truly recover his strength. Kenny slipped into dreams for the first time in a long time… dreams that did not feature the damp darkness of the well… or the horror of a blade at his throat.

-----

As she waited at the house, Grace studied the computer models on her computer screen. She'd collected tissue samples from all of them over the years… and when she had time… she studied the models that the computer created of the DNA. So far there was nothing she could discern that gave her any understanding of how they were physically any different from any mortal. And yet… the answers were here… they had to be. Their DNA strands were a little ragged on one end… as if something had been ripped away… but they were essentially the same as everyone else's.

What she needed was a stronger computer… a thousand lab techs under her command, and round the clock testing. Glancing up with a smile as Carl carried Marianna in… Grace felt her own developing baby jump slightly within her womb. "Active today little one," she laughed and absently rubbed one hand over her bulging abdomen. It wouldn't be long.

Marianna struggled free of Carl and patted down her dress before grinning and running to Grace's arms. "The boy squeezed my hand," she said happily settling next to Grace. She rubbed Grace's belly and laid an ear on it. "Hi baby!" she cried in her little girl's voice.

Grace kissed her hair and smiled at Carl. "Thank you Carl. That will be all. Keep an eye on John for me."

Carl nodded and left.

Grace shifted in her chair as she pulled Marianna onto her lap and continued to regard the screens. He hand clicked on file after file while the girl watched the changing monitor with her.

"Where's mine?" the girl asked.

Grace smiled. She'd not taken samples from the children yet. She'd meant to discuss it with Eleanor and Methos but hadn't had the opportunity. Methos had left so quickly once he'd arrived. Nevertheless, perhaps it was time. "Can you be quite brave?"

Marianna nodded. Grace reached for a sterile swab and ripped open the protective paper. "Open wide," she instructed and then swabbed the inside of Marianna's mouth. "That's all!" Finished, she inserted the swab into the reading unit she'd developed. She typed in a few commands and then waited as the computer read the sample and began to form a graphic based on what it read. She hummed a lullaby as she held Marianna. Then the graphic was finished. As it revolved about on the display… Grace's hands froze about Marianna and her mouth dropped open. "Of course," she breathed triumphantly. "That makes perfect sense."

-----


	33. Chapter ThirtyTwo

**Chapter Thirty-Two  
****Paris:**

Dozing slightly in the sunshine of the garden, Joe Dawson was only vaguely aware of his granddaughter playing Chopin on the piano. It made for a lilting background to the muted sounds of Paris traffic on the far side of the protective wall. In the garden… the buzz of mosquitoes was the loudest sound he heard. He slapped at a slight prick on one arm and rubbed his arm aware that Abigail had stopped playing.

A few moments later his granddaughter appeared at the open French doors. "Grandpa? Mr. Pierson and a couple of friends are here."

Joe waved and geared up his chair to zoom toward the house when he saw Methos speak quietly to Abigail and then step out alone into the sunshine. He pulled the doors closed behind him.

"Hey Joe… old buddy. Thought we could speak more privately out here," he said easily.

"Don't you old buddy me!" snapped Joe. "Have you found him?"

Methos hesitated, looking slightly guilty. Then he shrugged. "Oh… you mean Derrick. No… I couldn't find him. Surely Amy's kept you abreast of that."

Joe nodded. "Thought maybe you knew more than she did. She said you left Niebos in a hurry after dropping your Watcher off. Damn it Methos… you know better than that."

Methos looked off into the distance. "You know better than anyone that sometimes Watchers get in the way. Speaking of which…" he gestured toward the house. "I have one in the house and I need you to debrief her. She's seen and may know things she shouldn't."

Joe peered at him curiously. "Suppose you start at the beginning as I have no idea what you're talking about."

Methos let out a long breath, nodded and dropped into a chair. Over the next fifteen minutes he brought Joe up to speed about the de Valicourts and their Watcher.

"Damn!" Joe chuckled. "Still… can't blame 'em for wantin' a deeper relationship." He winked at Methos. "How's Ellie?"

"_Eleanor_ is fine," Methos intoned sharply. Then he smiled. "Sorry Joe. She's fine." He smiled thinly. It was sometimes hard to talk about his wife with a man who had once loved her… one she had once loved.

"What's that about?" Joe wanted to know.

"She's worried about Derrick," he said with a wave of his hand, "and I couldn't help alleviate that. He's still out there… on his own… and she's worried. Then Amanda called me about the de Valicourts and I had to rush off." He shrugged. "I miss her and the children." Joe was one of the few outside the inner circle of immortals based on Niebos who knew that J. D. and Marianna were their children and not adopted. Their parentage was still a carefully guarded secret.

"Yeah… don't spend too much time away from them… kids I mean. They grow up too fast even for us mortals." He gazed wistfully toward the house. "They grow up too fast." When Methos didn't reply, he looked at him; ready to make a remark only to stop when he saw something haunted in the old immortal's eyes. "Yeah… they grow up too fast," Joe repeated again lamely. "Ever figure out what you have to do once they're grown?"

Methos' head snapped up. "No," he said softly and shook his head sadly. "I've gone through all the old records I could find and have studied all the photographs on that computer file that Darius left us. I've found nothing. If the answer exists… it must lie with the original material."

"And you're no closer to finding that," Joe added.

"MacLeod keeps looking… and that's the other thing I want to talk to you about. I haven't heard from him in over a week. Amanda said he helped separate the battling de Valicourts and then left… but wouldn't say why. I want to know where he is."

Joe paled and looked away. Oddly… the street traffic seemed unusually loud.

"Joe," Methos pleaded. "Tell me where he is."

Joe took a deep breath. "Honestly… I don't know… not for certain. He came to me for some addresses and he left. The man I had on him lost him at the first one."

"What happened?"

Joe licked his lips, wishing that he had a good stiff drink. He glanced over at the pitcher of lemonade and sighed. "He was challenged by an immortal at the first address. The place went up in a fireball and neither man was seen again."

"Who was it?"

Joe shrugged. "A fairly young drifter named Lucas Delbert… a man with a mean streak and a penchant for cheating. Something you know a lot about," he said directly. "Neither Watcher was close enough to see who won. Then the place went up in flames. By the time my man thought to check the car… the local fire patrol was on the job. Mac's car was impounded by the police as evidence. Based on the car's papers, they've put his name out as a 'person of interest'."

"He's not dead," Methos assured him, although in truth it was based more on a gut feeling rather than anything he knew. "He's likely just laying low." His brow wrinkled in thought. "What did he want Delbert for?"

"He didn't" Joe admitted ruefully. "Their meeting was purely chance."

Methos glared at Joe slightly. "Then for whom was he searching?"

Joe glared back and then nodded as if coming to grips with his betrayal of his friend. "Alistair Craille. He didn't want any of you to know."

Methos sat back confused. "What would Craille have to do with anything? He's a minor player and somewhat of a fop. He woos women and lives off of them."

"He was dating Kate Devaney. Mac ran into them here in Paris."

Methos was stunned. "No wonder Amanda didn't want to talk about it. Mac's always had a soft spot for Kate… it's his Highland sense of guilt."

"Yeah. He and Kate and Craille were up to something. They ditched their Watchers and took off. Then Mac shows up here and wants to know where he can find Craille."

"He didn't tell you why?"

Joe shook his head. "Nope. But he seemed awfully torn up about it. All he said was that he had to find them."

"Them," repeated Methos thoughtfully. He had a sinking feeling he knew what this might be about. What else could it be? He knew that MacLeod and Amanda had discussed and ultimately rejected having a child. Amanda just couldn't see herself being a mother… and Methos recalled how devastated MacLeod had seemed afterwards. He glanced at Joe. Even their friend didn't know the whole story about the children. He didn't even know about Alisaunne's parentage. He didn't know how the children had come to be… They'd only told Joe that it had happened because of Methos and Eleanor's commitment to one another. Surely MacLeod wouldn't have jeopardized all that they were working for by telling Kate and Craille that immortals could have children… and then how. Surely he wouldn't have actually pursued this… or would he have? He sat forward, leaning his arms on his thighs, and shook his head. "Damn you MacLeod," he muttered softly. "Damn you."

"You know what this is about?" Joe asked.

"I may," Methos replied as he sat back with resignation. Right now… whether he was right or wrong… he couldn't do a thing about it.

-----

**Geneva, Switzerland:**

Duncan had managed to steal a cloth coat from an outside line as he'd traveled on foot through the countryside. He'd rummaged in his pants pockets and found a small wad of bills… change from some purchase at a roadside station that he hadn't put in his wallet… and pinned it to the line. It wasn't much… but it was all he had. He needed the coat… ragged at the cuffs but clean… to hide his sword. There was no way he was leaving it behind… and no way he could move through the streets of Geneva without it hidden in the coat.

His bank was accustomed to his having it. He'd have to produce it when the metal detectors caught it. But he'd be safe in the bank. They guaranteed it. He would be as safe as his money. The bank in Geneva wasn't open to the public. Their accounts were all Swiss numbered accounts and their clientele had to provide fingerprints, retinal scan, and a breath analysis to be admitted to the upper levels or to the vaults.

It was the vault, and his safety-deposit box, that Duncan wanted access to. He had extra identity papers, money and weapons in that box. While he didn't think he'd need the weapons… he did need ready cash and a passport.

He stopped in the entry cage as the metal detector went off and carefully pulled out his _katana_, which he put in a drawer. He hated leaving it here… but there was no other choice. If he'd had his car… he would have secured it in the trunk. But then, he grinned, if he'd had his car, he wouldn't need to be stopping here.

"I'm in antiques," he told them once with a shrug. "I'm making a delivery."

As always, the clerk nodded and said nothing, carefully locking the drawer from his station with a set of computer commands. The entry cage opened and Duncan was admitted. He signed in at the desk and provided the handscan, breath, and retinal check without any further problem.

Shortly after his identity was verified, a small, waspish man greeted him warmly and accompanied him to the locked elevator, which they rode to the vault floor. Duncan waited in a comfortable private lounge, sipping espresso while his box was located by computer and finally discharged through the automatic retrieval system onto a table. He rose and opened the box, carefully selecting identity papers and thumbing through the cash. He decided on $10,000 and was putting the rest back when his hand touched some papers he had stored there.

On top of the stack was the posthumous letter he'd received from Darius a few years ago. After he'd scanned it onto his computer, he'd put it here… with the things he most wanted kept safe. He slowly pulled the envelope out, recalling that day in Paris when Phillip had handed it to him. Gently he ran his fingers over his name written with a flourish in Darius' distinctive handwriting. He could almost picture his old friend sitting at his desk and writing that. He pulled the letter out and read it again.

_Duncan,_

_If you are reading this letter, my friend, then two things have happened. I have died and you have met one of my oldest friends. He will tell you who he is himself when he is ready. I ask only that you listen to him and to what he has to tell you. You may find that he has a perspective on life that you have never considered._

_I do not say that I necessarily agree with his perspective, but it has always been a valid counterpoint to my own. As to whether you should trust him? That my friend I leave to your decision._

_Many years ago I began collecting objects and documents from around the world. Many you have seen in my room at the church. Most you have never seen. As I collected these gifts sent to me by others, I began to see in them a pattern, a connection that might offer a clue to our shared past. For what seems like centuries I have studied and tried to find the answers, but at last I am ready to admit defeat. There may be no answers._

_I intend to leave my life here. I am ready to go. If all goes well, I will simply vanish from sight and fade into another life in another place. Yet if you are reading this, then I have died since leaving Paris. I do not wish the work I have spent my life on to be lost. I leave it for you and my other dearest friends to solve the puzzle that I could not solve._

_Where first we met, there was a small chapel. It still exists. Go there. The answers you seek are there._

_Go in peace, my friend,_

_Darius_

But as often as he'd been to Waterloo in the intervening years… as often as he'd tromped on the battlefield or toured the chapel… now a small museum… he'd found nothing. He began to refold the letter and then paused. As he'd done with the envelope, he ran his fingers lightly over the handwriting. The "D" in Darius' signature drew his attention. It was uncommonly thick. As he rubbed it… he felt something there. Duncan closed his eyes.

For a moment he recalled Darius working with a Braille machine at his desk.

"What's that old friend?" Duncan had asked him. The year had been 1919, just after the First World War. Duncan had stopped by to see his friend before he left France.

"Oh nothing. One of my parishioners is blind and when I send her things… I use this so that she can read my letters herself." He'd set it aside with a shrug, as he was eager to hear all about Duncan's time on the front.

Braille? Was that what he felt? Had Darius hidden a clue beneath his signature? Desperately he tried to recall the Braille alphabet. He'd never had to learn it… but he'd studied it at one time… purely as an intellectual exercise. Finally he seized on the letter Q and the number 4.

Duncan stuffed the letter back into the envelope and slid it into his coat pocket. Quickly he closed his box and pushed it back into the wall, hitting the retrieval button as he did so. The opening closed and he could hear the soft _whir_ of the machinery as his box, untouched by human hands, returned to its place in the vault. Glancing in the mirror, he smoothed his hair and adjusted his coat before opening the door.

The clerk was immediately at his side, chatting amiably as he escorted the Highlander to the elevator and returned him to the main floor. There, Duncan bid his farewells, stopped in the exit cage to retrieve his sword and hurried out into the blazing sun. He couldn't breathe. His chest hurt from the tension as he'd held his breath since finding the clue. He crossed the street to where there was a small park and settled onto an out-of the-way bench. Gently he pulled the letter out again, opened it, and closed his eyes as he let his fingers scan lightly over the entire letter. He found nothing else unusual besides the odd Braille under the signature.

Again he seemed to see his friend working on his rendition of the Battle of Gettysburg… a battle that neither man had seen.

The year was 1993… a few months before Darius' death.

"War in the abstract is a marvelous intellectual exercise," Darius was saying. "The reality, of course is much different."

Duncan had risen and stretched, standing over the battlefield… looking down on it and on all the tiny figures in their painted glory, preparing to meet their doom.

Another time, the battle Darius was working on was that of Agincourt. It was in 1980… just after Duncan had met Tessa.

"You've never done Waterloo," Duncan had commented.

"I was there," Darius smiled and shrugged. "I find battles I've never fought nor witnessed far more entertaining." His expression saddened. "Look at them Duncan. Like pawns on a chessboard… the kings and their counselors and generals used the peasants like we play chess. They moved units… some to be sacrificed… others to draw their opponent into a trap. Their lives were unimportant to the endgame."

Again… it was the late 1960's. The two were playing chess.

"One of these days… I'll beat you," Duncan was saying.

Darius had smiled mysteriously and shrugged that little shrug of his. "Knight to queen four," he said.

Duncan's eyes snapped open. "Knight to queen four… Q4." He rose to his feet and looked around. He needed a gift shop… a bookstore… someplace that had maps. After a visit to Waterloo battlefield not long after World War II, he'd given Darius a map of the battle, thinking he'd find it interesting. It hadn't been anything special… just a tourist thing. Darius had remarked on it and spread it out on his desk while the two of them had commented on the accuracy and inaccuracies of the marked troop movements. Afterwards, Darius had folded it up and set it aside.

"Napoleon should have won that battle. He had the numbers and the artillery on his side. But Wellington had the imagination to use the land… and his men to best advantage." He tapped his head. "The best generals can see the battle as the crow flies above. For them… it is as if they can remove themselves from the field of battle… and see it from a different perspective."

Duncan raced down the street, scanning the storefronts until he found one that looked promising… an upscale book and gift shop.

The bell over the door _tinkled_ as he entered reminding him of the antique shop he and Tessa had owned. Inside, the air was redolent with a cinnamon fragrance… evidently some potpourri. Behind the counter a dark-haired woman in a navy suit and cream blouse smiled pleasantly at him.

Duncan nodded and turned to the maps… finally finding one of the battlefield that was similar in size to the one he'd given Darius. Then he looked about the store… his gaze finally coming to rest on some displays of chess sets. He found one that was similar in size to Darius', spread the map on the table and removed the chess pieces from the board he'd selected. He held it over the map… trying to decide what angle to use. _Where first we met, there was a small chapel. It still exists. Go there. The answers you seek are there._ It was a clue. Duncan located the position of the chapel and used its location as the beginning point. Then he set the chess board on top of it. He looked at the clerk. "I need a pen."

She handed him one from a display. Swiftly he marked the map with small lines indicating the endpoints of the board's grid pattern. Setting the chessboard back where it had been he contemplated finishing the grid pattern now. He'd need a straight edge. As he looked around, noting the puzzled look of the clerk. Mumbling his apologies… he pulled out some cash and handed her enough to cover the cost of the map and the pen… plus a bonus… "For your trouble," he said with a smile as he pressed the funds into her hand. She blushed.

"_Merci_," she said softly.

Folding the map up, Duncan headed back to the street. He'd need a vehicle. He could stop off at the battlefield on his way to London. After all… finding Kate was still important, but now that he had a clue as to where to look… he was determined to follow it up as well. He'd spent too many years looking at this too closely. He'd forgotten Darius' penchant for looking at battles from above… and his analogies of battles to games of chess. "… _a different perspective_…" the letter had said. Duncan smiled. _A different perspective indeed_.

As he stood on the curb… considering hiring a cab, he noted a police officer… PPC in hand… looking at him strangely… and then down at whatever was displayed on the screen of his device. Again he stared at Duncan and then recognition seemed to dawn on the officer.

Duncan took off running. Evidently the authorities had traced the ownership of his car and wanted him detained to question him about the fire. He'd known that might happen. But he had no time for that now. Behind him… he heard the whistle sounding. It looked like he'd be on foot for a while. He'd need to lose this officer and continue to stay under the radar of the authorities, the Watchers, and other immortals for a while longer.

-----


	34. Chapter ThirtyThree

**Chapter Thirty-Three  
****Aboard the _Lady Ambergris II:_**

Adding another member to their group had meant some re-thinking of sleeping arrangements. Wingate had moved his things into Burke's cabin with a shrug. "I'm usually piloting at night," he'd said. "I can sleep during the day." Masahiro then took Wingate's cabin.

They'd turned south from Japan and headed into the South China Sea. Even after crossing the equator and heading into the Southern Hemisphere where it was technically winter, they noted little change in the heat. Weather reports indicated high temperatures and melting ice in the north. There were warnings of additional icebergs in the sea-lanes.

As the ship raced before the wind though, the immortals felt only the sea breeze. If they stood at the rail, they could see herds of porpoises and whales sounding in the distance. Above them in the clear blue of the cloudless sky seagulls flew and circled. Once, Burke pointed out an unusually large bird.

"Albatross," Wingate told him. "They're sacred to mariners."

Hearing his words, Amber recalled the Coleridge poem about the seaman who killed an albatross… and how he'd had to wander the world for years on end… immortal until he learned to love "_both man and bird and beast_." She shivered despite the heat and gazed at the pilothouse where Derrick lounged comfortably in the chair steering their way. _Do ya know where we're goin'?_ she thought. _Do ya have a plan?_

The sound of steel caught her attention as Masahiro worked with David and Michelle on improving their skills. Neither of the pair of young immortals was very good. Burke's skills, of course, were unknown… while she and Wingate both seemed more than adequate.

Masahiro paired them off against one another and paced around them, calling out commands or occasionally moving a foot or an arm to a different position. Amber let her mind wander back to her own training days as time after time, just when she thought she had a move perfected… Connor would do something else and his blade would end up on her throat. She never had bested him… not once. There were times she still felt bereft at his loss. He'd been so skilled… she couldn't imagine what had made him give up. Oh she'd known he was depressed… and coming out of Sanctuary that way with Jacob Kell taunting him and his being rusty… she understood that… but to just give up? Amber shook her head. It still made no sense… it wasn't the Connor she'd known.

Wingate and Burke were getting into the sparring match now. At least Wingate was. Burke seemed to hang on the edge of the group… looking at them numbly. Wingate waved at Amber to join. She pushed off of the rail, easily drawing her cutlass as she and Wingate began to spar. As with the others, Masahiro called commands at them but did not adjust their stance or their arms.

The air rang with the sounds of steel.

Then Burke let out a strangled scream of anguish and everyone froze. The man had clapped both hands to his head and with his eyes closed, had sunk to his knees moaning, "No! No! No!"

Wingate rushed to his side to calm him, but Burke shoved him away and snatched Wingate's sword from the man's hand and backed away from them all… swinging it about before him. Screams of pain continued to sound from him.

It was then that Derrick joined them from the pilothouse. He pushed through them… spread his arms wide and smiled. "Burke. You're safe with us. No one is going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt anyone." He stepped forward and reached out toward Burke.

Amber's stomach lurched. Was he a fool? What if Burke landed a blow? But he didn't. Instead… Derrick's soft voice seemed to make an impact on the big man. He dropped his arms, sank to his knees and began to weep. Derrick leaned over him, murmuring softly as one would to a child. He cradled Burke's head and then easily lifted Wingate's sword from Burke's lax hand. He tossed it to Wingate.

As the sobbing eased, and Burke seemed calmer, Derrick motioned for Wingate to take his friend below. Wingate handed his sword to Masahiro and did so.

The immortals watched silently as the two men left.

Finally, once they were out of sight, Michelle asked, "Now what was that about?"

David shook his head. "Something sure upset him."

"I think he killed someone," Derrick said sadly. "Someone he either didn't want to… or didn't mean to."

Masahiro nodded with a grunt. "_Hai_! I have heard of such things happening to some of us. Sometimes in the heat of battle, one is faced with killing a lover, a student, or a mentor. If one is not prepared… it can overwhelm one." He looked meaningfully at Derrick who shrugged and headed back to the pilothouse.

Amber watched him go… her thoughts still on Connor MacLeod… and on the man who killed him… his kinsman… Duncan. She'd yet to confront the younger Highlander. She'd yet to ask him why.

Later in their bunk that night, Derrick made love to her slowly and carefully… almost sadly. When finished, he drew her curled body into his arms as one hand curled her hair around one of his fingers and he kissed it.

"Are ya thinkin' of Burke?" Amber asked after some time.

"No… us."

Amber shifted so that her face was inches from his. "About what might happen some day? Do ya really think we'll have no choice?"

Derrick sighed. "I don't know. I know now why you were so reluctant for the others to come…why you were even reluctant to be with me. Killing Kobe… taking what he was into me… I finally understand so many things."

"Like what?"

"Like why my sister and her husband always seemed so sad. Why sometimes when they argued… I thought the air was charged with power. They feared killing one another more than anything else, I think."

"Aye. Connor always warned me not to get involved with one of us. It's why he always kept me at arm's length." She snuggled even closer; her hands running playfully over the hard muscles of his arm as she felt him stir again near her legs. "I don't know if I could stand it… havin' to kill ya."

Derrick laughed and kissed her eyes. "What makes you think I'd let you?" Then he kissed her mouth firmly, his tongue teasing the inner recesses of her mouth, and the conversation ended as their need for one another grew once more.

-----

**Niebos:**

When Kenny awakened this time, he saw and felt only the one immortal. Rising up to rest on his elbows, he stared at the dark-haired man studying some files while he sat evidently watching over the boy. He lifted his gaze as Kenny rose and smiled.

"You're awake. You're moving better this time too," he said pleasantly.

Kenny opened his mouth to reply… and nothing came out but a garbled sound.

The man rose. "Speech will come back later. At least we hope so. You're only the second to awaken." He pushed the call button clipped to Kenny's pillow.

Something in the way he moved brought a memory into focus. Kenny pulled back from him. In some dream he'd had… this man had killed him.

Sadness flashed over the man's face. "You remember the dream." He looked away guiltily.

Feeling another immortal, Kenny looked away and saw Eleanor arrive, holding Denara's hand. Eleanor smiled openly at him and, after patting the man's arm; she stood next to Kenny's bedside. "How do you feel? Give me a thumb's up?"

Kenny snickered a bit, his gaze traveled to the foot of his bed where the small Denara stood looking back at him. He looked at her thoughtfully. He knew Denara… had known her for centuries. He'd tried to trick her off of the convent grounds several times to take her head. She'd never gone for it, of course. She might be very small, but she was also very wise. Like him, she was an old woman trapped in the body of a child. He noted that she was not carrying a stuffed animal with her. Odd… she always had it. Inside she hid her blade.

Denara winked at him and leaned on the footboard.

Slowly Kenny gave Eleanor a thumb's up sign.

"Good. Hungry?"

Kenny nodded. He was famished. He felt like he hadn't eaten in years. His stomach growled in anticipation. Eleanor laughed. "I'll get you something." She turned away and Kenny reached out for her hand, holding it. Eleanor looked back at him. "You want me to stay?"

Kenny nodded and then gazed angrily at the man.

"Oh… you don't trust Greg," Eleanor realized. "Not to worry. He's worked very hard to bring you back to us. Unless you challenge him… I don't think he'll bother you," she laughed.

Kenny narrowed his eyes and curled his lip at Greg who still looked guilty. The boy jerked at Eleanor's hand and looked up at her trying to ask her what had happened. Only a mangled sound emitted from his throat. He pounded his free hand on the sheet and made a writing motion.

"You'll likely find you can't write, either," Eleanor said softly. "It will come back. It's like a mild stroke in mortals. We don't clearly understand it… but we do think you'll improve."

Greg said something about getting Kenny some food and left as Eleanor drew up the chair and leaned onto the bed, now holding Kenny's hand with both of hers. Denara still stood at the foot of the bed, watching him.

"As to what happened… that's a long story. Wherever you were… whatever you were doing… you were killed. There was a man who wanted to be one of us. He collected immortals, kept them drugged and experimented on them. He linked you and Greg together for an experiment and within the dream, Greg tells me he killed you… but that somehow… your thoughts became entangled with his for a while. Once some of us discovered what was happening and freed all of you, some awakened… some didn't. We've been caring for the ones who didn't awaken in hopes that they would." Eleanor smiled at him. "We wanted each of you to have another chance. That man should never have interfered."

Kenny lay back on the pillow thinking about her explanation. He did recall being shot somewhere in Germany. He'd been hunting and had been fairly successful. Then he'd felt a sharp stab of pain in his chest and had seen blood bloom there. The next thing he recalled were images of an operating room and being strapped down. That's when the vision became really weird, as he'd somehow been both the doctor and the patient. And then he'd found himself trapped in the well. Interspersed in these more dominant visions were ones of other immortals sometimes being there… or of watching immortals as they fought to the death in some arena. But nothing except the well had seemed tangible and real.

He drew up his legs slightly and then extended them, as if to be certain that they still worked.

"After you've eaten… we'll get you up. Your immortal presence is strong and you should recover quickly now that you're awake. You're just stiff and you haven't moved in a while."

Kenny shook his head at her and tried again to ask a question. Nothing came out that made sense, but she seemed to understand what he wanted to know.

"Twelve years," she said sadly. "We've been caring for you for twelve years."

Kenny's heart pounded so loudly that it was all he could hear for the moment. _Twelve years?_ And no one had taken his head? Why? Why not? He would have. He would have at the first opportunity. He would have killed any of them who'd been unconscious. It was the rules of the game. A wave of unaccustomed nausea moved through him and he felt dizzy and somehow not clearly here. For a moment… the well glimmered about him… the well… where he was safe. Angrily he pushed that thought away. He would not return there! If he were unconscious, he couldn't protect himself! Kenny screamed in frustration, venting all of his anger and denial into that one sound.

-----

"There he goes again," Chou remarked, looking out at Phillip climbing the mountain. "It'll be low tide soon."

J. D. sat up in the tall grass and watched his uncle make his way up the twisting path. "Why doesn't he just take the bad one's head?"

Chou met Denis' gaze and they both shrugged. "Oh… it's holy ground there. So Phillip just keeps watch. Besides, he was a boy here… it's part of his religion to go there."

Chewing on a long stalk of drying grass, J. D. somehow doubted that some ancient religious fervor made Phillip climb that mountain day in and day out. "I'd like to see that immortal… really see him. If it's holy ground… he couldn't hurt us."

Denis replied and rolled over on his stomach. He didn't think going there was such a good idea. Nestor had always been a slippery one… and Denis didn't want J. D. anywhere near there… nor, he was certain, did Eleanor. Phillip and Reagan Cole had taken the possessed Valeraine there for a reason… and Denis hoped it was to somehow bring her back to herself one day. A cold bead of perspiration formed and ran down the side of his dark face. He and Chou had been charged with keeping an eye on the boy… keeping him safe… keeping him out of any danger. Being anywhere near Valeraine wouldn't be safe.

As if the same thought had occurred to him, Chou leaped to his feet. "Let's practice!" he suggested. Before long, the three boys were stick fighting… two against one and then each on their own as if it were a melee. J. D. was surprising agile for one so young, and he was quick study. Chou and Denis had been warned by Phillip to never use bladed weapons around the boy… but not to exclude him if he wanted to participate. After all… the more he learned… the better he'd be when the day came… if it came. If the boy suspected anything… he didn't let on.

An hour later, sweaty, grimy, and out of breath… the three boys stopped.

"I feel like swimming," J. D. said with a wicked grin. He arched his brows several times, winked and took off up the mountain path. Chou and Denis followed.

-----

After his return from the cove, Phillip stopped by the hospital. He knew Kenny was awake and knew he best face the predatory youth so that the boy wouldn't get any ideas. As he entered the private room they'd moved Kenny to before he'd awakened… mainly so he wouldn't sense the others still lying in their coma-like state… Phillip paused to watch Eleanor assist the boy in walking from his bedside to a nearby chair. Kenny felt Phillip's approach and stared at him nervously.

"Not to worry, lad. If I'd wanted your head… I'd have had it years ago." He smiled, but there was an implicit warning in his words and tone that even Eleanor caught.

Kenny snorted slightly and turned away to grasp Eleanor's hand more tightly, as if he were weaker than he was. Phillip noted the boy's chicanery and wondered if Eleanor saw anything but a small boy trapped in a body that was all too vulnerable. He wondered if she were thinking of her own children… and the fears they all had of what might happen to them.

"Ready to go," Denara said and reached her arms up to him. She liked him to carry her sometimes… but only when she asked it.

Phillip leaned over and let her clasp her hands about his neck. He lifted her up and settled her into the crook of his arm. She laid her head on his chest and said softly. "I don't trust him."

Phillip nodded before replying softly as he turned to carry her out. "Neither do I."

"Someone has to watch him."

"Someone will," Phillip assured her. "Someone will."

-----


	35. Chapter ThirtyFour

**Chapter Thirty-Four  
****Washington, D.C:**

When she'd awakened, the memory of the last beating still a burning memory in her mind, Sarah Manning had almost hated to move, much less get up. But she had, and had taken a few moments to carefully make the immaculate bed and smooth the wrinkles. She wanted Kingsley to have no reason to beat her again.

Again and again the memory of the lead pipe descending on her in its bone-crunching severity made her hold her breath. Tears sprang to her eyes. But despite it all… she discovered when she'd looked at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror of the sliding glass closet door… she was whole and her skin was flawless. She was as she'd always been. True, there was still that small scar along one arm where a customer had cut her once… but other than that… she was perfect. And she wanted to remain that way. She sat on the edge of the armchair, shivering slightly in the cool of the air conditioning. She could feel goose pimples up and down her arms and legs. Sarah closed her eyes and tried to think her way out of this situation.

Despite his small stature, Kingsley was all muscle and evidently accustomed to getting his own way. He knew just where to grab her to force her to his will. He knew how to twist her arm until it snapped. He knew how to entangle his fist in her hair and pull until she wanted to scream. He wanted this friend of Ben's. Why shouldn't she give him to him?

_Because Ben won't like it! _Sarah sobbed and then quickly wiped the tears away, fearful that he'd enter and see them and then hit her again. She didn't want that. She'd do anything to avoid that. The fear of painful death again and again at his hands was very real to her. Cassandra had once told Sarah about her early life and her torture at the hands of the horsemen who killed her again and again until she learned to be silent and hate them with vengeance. "Never let a man get the upper hand," her mentor had told her when first training her. "Men are pigs. They can't be trusted."

So Sarah had developed her man-hunting persona of a bitch in high heels and had always thrown her lovers for a loop and used her sex to control men… both mortal and immortal. Never had she met one she couldn't control. Not until now. She could feel him now… his immortal presence… moving about in the outer room. He was here… and he likely would be coming for her soon. She had to think of something! But what? She tried to clearly see the lost photograph of the island in her mind. She hadn't really studied it before… figuring she'd have it when she searched. Now… she had only the vaguest recollection of the mountain, the small town and the stone wharf. How many islands fit that pattern? How long would he wait until he'd not just beat her… but take her head?

She could smell the hated floral in her hair. Evidently he always cleaned her up with this stuff. It was cloying in its intensity. So much so that she wanted to cut it off.

She heard the bolt on the door pulled back and Kingsley opened it… staring at her coldly… without emotion.

Sarah smiled thinly and rose, trying to keep her hands from covering her breasts and abdomen. He didn't like that. She needed to show no fear. "Ready for me again?" she asked lightly as she stepped toward him.

He made way for her to pass. She made certain not to brush against him… he hated that… and headed straight for the computer where she began once more to search for an island that might… or might not be Greek; and that might… or might not have (or ever have had) an immortal named Gerard something or other in residence.

Perspiration built up on her and ran in cold channels down her sides and made the smell of her hair ever more cloying and close. Still she found nothing. Kingsley entangled his hand in her hair and pulled her head back suddenly. Then he laid a knife against her exposed throat and drew it back and forth, barely breaking the skin.

"I'm trying," Sarah pleaded. "Really I am."

"Try harder," he said with a sneer. "Hand."

Sarah reluctantly lifted her right hand from the keyboard, fearful of what he planned to do… but more fearful of what he would do if she refused.

Kingsley grabbed it and slapped it onto the table and swiftly rammed the knife through it.

Sarah screamed and then moaned as she sobbed.

"Now pull it free and get back to work," he said darkly. His lip curled slightly.

"I can't," Sarah wept and tried to hold touch her impaled hand with the other one. He slapped it away.

"Pull it free and continue."

Sarah bit her tongue as she pulled her hand free, watching as the knife's edge sliced cleanly through tendons and bone. She nearly blacked out as she cradled the bleeding hand against her chest and covered it protectively with the other.

He pulled it free and looked at it. "You'll heal. Now back to work." He shoved it toward the keyboard.

Sarah nodded weakly. It would heal… and blood would wash away. Awkwardly she continued her search, using her left hand on the mouse until the right felt better. _How long!_ she groaned inwardly. But how long for what, she wasn't clearly certain. One thing she knew though, was that if she didn't find something soon, he'd kill her. Or worse… he wouldn't.

A page of island photos came up. She started to move on… when something about one of them caught her attention. It had nothing to do with the photo… it had more to do with the map in the little boy's room… a crudely drawn map that marked "Ruins" at the summit of the mountain. And "Stairs" down one side. She'd thought that some boy's fantasy but here it was… a photo of stairs carved into the side of a volcanic mountain… stairs that led to a small cove. "Here be Mermaids!" the map had read.

"You have something?" Kingsley asked noting her intake of breath. He leaned over her shoulder.

"Maybe," Sarah replied and clicked on the photo. Several moments later Sarah let out a long breath. "This is it… I'm certain of it. Niebos… privately owned. In the Aegean Sea. It has a temple to Poseidon and was the seat of an oracle over two thousand years ago."

"What makes you so certain," Kingsley asked as he straightened up and lit a cigar.

Sarah smiled at him and lied. "Ben once mentioned an oracle." She hoped he couldn't tell she was lying. She blinked and continued to smile.

"You're certain," he asked.

"It's the best bet so far. I can continue to look for photos of it now that I have the name."

Kingsley drew in cigar smoke and held it a moment before breathing it out directly into her face. "I don't think that's necessary." He reached over and shut the computer off. Running a rough hand over her face and brushing the hair out of it he smirked at her. "You wouldn't lie to me again would you?"

Sarah shook her head. Her eyes darted to the closed door of the torture room. Surely he wouldn't!

His hand moved from her face to her neck. He squeezed slightly as if to strangle her. His face showed no emotion. She managed not to grab at his hand. He smiled at her. "I do like having an immortal to play with. I can try so many more things and you always come back." He squeezed harder.

Sarah's eyes rolled back as she fought to remain conscious.

He let go and slapped her leg. "Good behavior is to be rewarded." Kingsley stepped over to the bar and returned with a store's white gift box, which he set on the table. "Open it."

Sarah lifted off the top. There… in the tissue paper… was a filmy white negligee. It wasn't much in the way of clothing… but it was a start. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Put it on."

Sarah pulled it out of the box as she stood up, and then pulled it on, smoothing it about her.

Kingsley grabbed her by the neck again. "What's given can be taken away."

She nodded in understanding.

He pulled her by her hand to the bedroom door and shoved her in, then closed the door and bolted it.

Sarah didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was relieved that there had been no beating this time. She was relieved to have something to cover herself. But she was still cold. She rubbed her hands and stared up at the circulating ceiling fan and wondered if she dared to turn it off. She looked at the bed and wondered if she dared to climb under the covers. In the end, she sat on the chair and waited for his instructions.

-----

Burt Meyers surveyed the group of Watchers in the conference room. On the table was a set of gruesome photos of the body they'd recovered. He'd taken the red-eye from Paris as soon as they'd called him… and had slept only sporadically on the flight.

"Let me get this straight. You don't know for certain if an immortal was involved in this." He gestured toward the photographs. "You aren't certain if the kidnapped immortal is in any real danger. And you aren't certain about contacting the local authorities."

John Parker, the D. C. office supervisor nodded. "Essentially… yes. The problem is that research has determined that in the past few years… several women's bodies have been found in the D. C. area like this. The police have been keeping a lid on it… and few if any of the women have been identified. Complete bodies haven't been found for several. We know we're dealing with a serial killer… and that the immortal could be in danger. What we can't do… since we collected the body parts… is explain how we happened to locate them… and why we removed them. Doing so compromises our organization. But something _has_ to be done."

Burt sighed. "I have to have free reign. I need to know that whatever I have to do… I can do." He met Parker's gaze and waited for the man to nod. "If the man _is_ an immortal… I want clearance to deal with him."

Parker looked away before finally closing his eyes and nodding. "You realize if it comes to that… we might have to deal with Duncan MacLeod."

Burt nodded. "I do. He's been very clear on us not interfering in the game… but this…" he gestured again to the photographs, "… does not look like the game. It looks like this guy is a sick sonofabitch."

The sounds of the Watchers present, shifting about in their seats uncomfortably, rose and subsided. It was an old argument… one that records showed had been around for centuries. _When do we stop observing? When is it necessary to interfere?_ Such discussions had led to the renegade Hunters under James Horton thirty years ago… and most recently to the aborted attempt by Henry Rawlins to enter and control the game. Since the Rawlins affair, the pendulum on that argument had swung back towards never interfering for any reason. But Meyers was right… this man had to be stopped and their organization was apparently in a position to stop him. Whether or not he was immortal… he had to be stopped. But at what cost? Would they lose the support of MacLeod if they broke their oath and sanctioned the killing of an immortal? Or would MacLeod agree with them that the man had to be stopped… but that he should be the one to do it?

Burt smiled at all of them. "Maybe it won't come to that. Now then… who has the research on this film company?" Papers were shuffled as the Watchers leaned forward to present their reports.

-----

**Paris:**

Dinner was an energetic affair with the conversation dictated by the twins. Methos smiled slightly, wondering if in a few short years such scenes would be the norm in his own household as the children grew. He said nothing, but noticed Amy smiling at him as if she understood his thoughts.

Dawson was especially smitten with Madeline… which made him no different from his grandfather and the two immortals present. The difference was… the boy didn't seem to mind staring at her in open admiration, the tips of his ears bright read, as he energetically spoke about his schoolwork and interests. At least Madeline seemed pleased to be the center of someone's attention.

Abigail … not to be outdone by her twin was commenting on his stories with a wit that Methos found oddly familiar. He glanced at Joe… beaming at both the twins and wondered if his friend saw himself in those young people… saw the young man he'd once been before war and loss had changed him.

Robert seemed amused as he watched the family dynamics. Sometimes his eyes unfocused slightly, a sure sign that his thoughts were with Gina. His mouth curved up slightly in a secretive smile. Likely Methos was the only one who noticed. It was a good sign that the separation was working.

Madeline had not been happy about learning that she was to be re-assigned for the time being… nor that her reports and accounts of what she'd seen and heard while a member of the de Valicourt household were now classified. Joe had assured her that it was no reflection on her abilities… he'd managed this with a straight face even as he'd regarded her with more than paternal interest.

"Now tell me what you know," he'd told her.

Madeline had explained the odd behavior of the couple and the swift arrival and interference of Amanda, MacLeod and then Pierson. "They seemed to know what was happening, but I've never heard of anything like this in all my studies. Could this be the end result of two immortals living together as husband and wife for over three hundred years… or could it be the Gathering starting?" the young woman had asked hopefully.

Joe had smiled and chuckled. "Well… married couples fight."

"Not like this Mr. Dawson. It was if they knew what the other was thinking!"

Joe had laughed. "I'm told long-married mortal couples can do that."

Madeline's face had fallen. "Then there's nothing there but a normal outgrowth of just being around one another?"

Joe had shrugged. "Evidently not."

"Then why am I being reassigned?" She'd looked back and forth between Joe and Methos with tears brimming in her eyes.

"It's just that they need some privacy to work this out," Methos had suggested, hating to even say anything.

Madeline had nodded. Then she'd focused on Methos. "What about you Mr. Pierson? You were a Watcher… or so you said. Where is your Watcher? Maybe I could be yours?" Methos had looked at Joe with a panicked expression.

Joe, too busy chuckling to notice had finally managed to say that he'd consider it. "In the meantime… I need an assistant to help organize the Duncan MacLeod file. Interested?"

Methos had rolled his eyes at Joe's smooth technique. The old Watcher had successfully distracted Madeline LeSeur and had managed to arrange to keep her around him for the foreseeable future.

"By the way," Joe had finished up, "how do you feel about the blues?"

Now, at dinner, Madeline appeared to be fitting into the dynamics of the Meyers-Dawson household and earlier had babbled about looking forward to her new assignment. Methos wondered how well this would work, but at least Madeline was no longer focused on observing Robert… or worse… Methos himself!

After dinner, Dawson and Abigail took Madeline on a tour of the house and Amy motioned Methos into her study for a private conversation. She had a bombshell to lay on him.

"Sarah Manning," she said and waited.

Methos stared at her without emotion. Finally he shrugged. "What about her?"

"She's vanished in America. The Washington area Watchers called Burt to see if he could find her. When I heard the name… I got worried."

Methos managed a smile. "Jayne mentioned her to you."

"You know damn right she did! Since that report… I've been studying her file. There's nothing about you in that file."

Methos shrugged. "My only contact with her was before she was immortal."

"That's what you told Jayne. But this is me, Methos. I'm your official Watcher. I want the truth."

He sighed as he sprawled in a French Provincial chair positioned near her desk. "Honestly… that's it. She wanted a personal relationship. I declined. She followed me. I evaded her… _and_ kept Jayne safe in the process."

Amy leaned against her desk and crossed her arms. "Jayne says you were positively paranoid about evading her."

"I'd seen her file when I was in Watchers. She was a government spook at one time. I knew she likely still had access to government resources. I wasn't about to endanger Eleanor or the children," he spat out angrily.

Amy sighed. "She was in Washington D. C., Methos. I sent an operative out to the farm. The house had been broken into."

Methos' expression of disinterest froze and he sat straighter in the chair… his unspoken questions hung in the air between them.

"Besides a broken windowpane on a door which was the point of entry, nothing was touched… except for something in Marianna's room."

Methos waited.

"There was a broken picture frame tossed on the floor. Whatever was in the frame was missing."

Methos tried to concentrate. What was on the wall? What would have given Sarah Manning a clue as to where to find him?

"It was photo of Niebos… one of those touristy ones that Phillip puts on the website."

"You sound certain of that."

Amy smiled. "Sarah Manning was kidnapped but the kidnapper left behind her purse. The photo was in it."

Methos breathed a sigh of relief. Then he looked pointedly at Amy. "Kidnapped?"

Amy shrugged. "That's why they contacted Burt. They wanted him to use his contacts in law enforcement to investigate the case. He flew over early this morning. Apparently… there's a serial killer involved. Methos he could use your help. Is there anything I can pass onto him?"

Methos suddenly understood Amy's concern. Her husband was investigating a possible immortal. She was worried about him… about what he might have to do… or what might happen to him. "I wish I could help… but I honestly don't know anything."

"And you're not concerned about Sarah Manning?"

Methos stared at Amy. "Absolutely not."

"You know she was one of Cassandra's students…"

"Yes."

"And you're not worried?"

"At the time she was Cassandra's student… Cassandra did not know that I was still alive. Even if she mentioned me… she would not have known the name Benjamin Adams." He shrugged. "Besides… Cassandra and I have made our peace."

"So Sarah Manning's activities?"

"An infatuation. And not one I share." By this time his tone indicated his anger and Amy could hear sarcasm in it."

She sighed. "I didn't mean anything by it. But I was wondering if…"

"I'd go to Washington? Not bloody likely!"

"But if this is an immortal, Burt could be in over his head," she pleaded. Standing she paced and gestured futilely. "If I have to beg… I will."

Methos sighed. He owed Amy so much… especially for running interference between the Watchers at large and him. She kept his identity secret from most of the other bureaus so that he could live a somewhat normal life. But dammit! He wanted to go home. "I'm certain he'll be fine," he told her gently and rose to hold her still as he gazed down at her. He tilted her head up so that her eyes met his. "Burt will be fine. He knows the score… and he knows what to do."

"But Mischkov might not have been an immortal," Amy replied. "Burt was never certain."

Methos sighed. "He'll be fine… and he isn't alone. The Washington area Watchers are among the best trained. Besides, I still have Robert and Gina to deal with." He smiled at her. "Really… I'm certain it will be fine." Unspoken was his need to also find MacLeod. He planned to start checking the other addresses on the list of Craille's properties that Joe had given MacLeod. It would delay his plans to return to Niebos… but only by a few days.

Amy nodded and they returned to the parlor where Joe and Robert were deep in a conversation about music. Methos stretched out to listen, aware of Eleanor humming somewhere on Niebos. Evidently everything was fine there… but she didn't share anything specific. In fact… it seemed her mental wall of privacy was up.

-----


	36. Chapter ThirtyFive

**Chapter Thirty-Five  
****Niebos:**

When they'd reached the beach at the cove, the three boys plunged into the surf. The tide was coming in and the waves were huge. Once, J. D. looked out towards the direction of the rock shelf… now deeply under water and evident only by sprays of water as the waves crashed into it. But Chou pushed the boy's head under and a wrestling match ensued between the three of them.

The tide came in more quickly than they expected, and before they knew it, even the beach path was under water.

"No hope for it now," Denis sighed. "Back up the stairs."

Chou grumbled as he began the climb. "I hate going back up this way. It's too steep."

Denis gave his friend a brief shove as they climbed; behind him, J. D. laughed as he glanced back over his shoulder at the sunlight dancing on the crashing waves. For a moment, he thought he saw a tall dark-haired woman dancing among the waves. The sight so startled him that he missed a step, lost his balance, and slid back down several steps before he came to a stop.

Pain exploded in one hand!

"Owwwwwwwwww!" J. D. cried out as he rolled onto his back on one step and held up a bloody hand.

The other two froze and then scampered back down to him.

Not accustomed to dealing with injuries… the boys were uncertain what to do.

"I'm the fastest," Denis said. "I'll go for help."

"No," whimpered J. D. "Mom and Uncle Phillip will know we've been here. Just wrap it up and help me back to the hospital. We'll work on a story."

"Are you sure you can manage the climb," Chou asked pulling off his wet shorts. None of the boys had shirts or shoes with them. At a nudge, Denis did the same. The wet shorts soon seemed to stanch the flow of blood.

"Can you climb?" Chou asked.

J. D. nodded. Cradling his hand he began to climb. Chou climbed ahead of him while Denis followed behind. They didn't want him falling again.

Halfway up the stairs, J. D.'s face paled and he had to sit for a while to catch his breath. "Just a little dizzy," he told them. Shortly after he insisted he was fine and the boys continued the steep climb. It was near dinnertime by the time they finished the climb to the temple mount. In the distance, they could hear the dinner bell at the villa ringing.

"I'm going for help," Denis said. "You two stay here."

J. D. didn't argue this time. His face was pale and it was obvious that he was still bleeding badly as the shorts were soaked a dark magenta.

Denis flew like the wind down the twisting mountain path; fearful of falling and delaying the help he was certain his friend needed. Still… he'd cut corners at the ends and leap down where he could to save time. Dusty and out of breath… he arrived at the hospital.

"Eleanor!" he shouted as he entered. She was usually in the ward, but he saw only the night nurse watching over the sleeping immortals.

The Greek woman looked up from her magazine and pointed towards the wing that had private rooms.

Denis took off running… sliding a bit along the tile floors as he called her name. "Eleanor!" she appeared in a doorway and grabbed at him as he slid into her.

"What's happened?"

"J. D.," Denis began as he bent over trying to catch his breath.

Eleanor's hands tightened on the boy's arms. "Tell me."

"We were on the temple mount. He fell. His hand's bleeding… really bad." Denis noticed a wide-awake Kenny watching the two of them intently within the room, but he pushed it aside in his urgency.

Eleanor paled. "Run to the villa and tell Phillip. I'm headed up the mountain. Hurry!" Denis raced off and Eleanor looked back into the room. "I'll be back later, Kenny." She hurried to the nursing station where she grabbed supplies… stuffed them into a bag and then raced up the mountain. Seldom had she climbed so quickly. Oh… she'd come down it fast enough the day so many years ago when she'd sensed that Derrick was in danger. Inwardly she prayed to whatever gods existed that her son would be all right. She began to hum as she climbed… determined not to alarm Methos. Overhead, the first stars were just beginning to appear. It was fully dark by the time she reached the summit.

"Over here," Chou called out to her.

She slid into a kneeling position in the dirt near them, aware that her son's face was as white as the broken stone columns.

"Hey Mom," he said weakly. "I fell."

Eleanor felt his cold moist forehead and knew he was surrendering to shock. She lay him down and pulled off her white coat to cover his shoulders. Grabbing the flashlight… she stuck it in her teeth while she began to remove the makeshift bandage. When blood spurted, she stopped and grabbed several rolls of gauze to wrap over and around the shorts. As bad as they were… they'd have to stay until she could get him to a more stable environment to get a clear look at the wound and get it stitched up. J. D. moaned as she moved his arm to put it under the coat. Likely a bone was broken as well.

Moments later she heard Phillip and Greg's voices as they climbed the path and arrived at the summit.

"How bad is it?" Phillip asked.

"I can't tell. He's bleeding and I don't want to remove the bandage until we get him down the mountain."

"I'll carry him," Phillip insisted and scooped a semi-conscious J. D. into his arms. "Greg… you go on with Chou and help Grace get a room ready. We'll be right behind you."

Greg handed the lantern he was carrying to Eleanor. "It'll be fine." He squeezed Eleanor's arm and gave her a small, smile of encouragement.

Eleanor nodded… but she didn't feel encouraged. She wanted to be at the hospital now! She wanted to see how bad it was! She wanted it never to have happened!

Again she forced herself to hum as they made their way down the mountain. She'd put up her mental wall… but she feared that some of her fears would leak around the edges. She'd tell Methos later. She'd call him and talk to him in Paris. He had enough to worry about… and Phillip was here. It would be fine. It had to be fine.

By the time they reached the clearing where the hospital was nestled, Greg had met them with a gurney. Gently Phillip laid J. D. on it as they wheeled him into the emergency room area. It wasn't usually staffed as they lived close enough to the hospital to handle any emergencies that the townsfolk had… but Grace had powered up the lights and had prepared one of the bays to receive them. Phillip stood back out of the way while the three doctors went to work on the boy. Grace removed the bloody rags and gauze while Greg prepared Eleanor to transfuse blood.

"I'm worried he won't tolerate anything else," Greg said meaningfully. Eleanor nodded. She sat next to him and pumped her arm a few times to get the blood flow started and then relaxed. With her free arm she brushed the sand from his face and ran her fingers through his dark hair. He was unconscious by this time… and breathing shallowly. His skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Although he healed fairly quickly from minor scrapes and scratches… Eleanor had no idea how his system would handle a major trauma.

"It's a compound fracture," Grace said. "That's why there's so much blood. It ruptured the skin."

"Surgery?" Eleanor asked.

"Maybe when he's a little more stable. We can type his blood and see if we have any in the bank," Greg said, evidently satisfied that the transfusion was going well.

Grace poured saline solution over the wound and gently applied a pressure bandage before wrapping the wrist again. She gave J. D. a shot of antibiotics. "About that… I don't know if mortal blood will be safe for him."

"Why not?" Eleanor asked. "Pre-immortals have never had problems before."

"That we know of. But if J. D. is like Marianna… his entire DNA structure is slightly different."

"What do you mean?"

Greg covered the boy with a warm blanket from the autoclave. "How different? I didn't think you'd ever noticed anything with the pre-immortals you tested years ago."

"I didn't. But I took a sample from Marianna earlier today. You recall I said ours looked a bit ragged at one end… as if something were missing?"

Eleanor and Greg nodded.

"Marianna has a triple helix that gradually dovetails to a double helix. Until we know more… I wouldn't want to use mortal blood on him."

Eleanor nodded. "I can give him all he needs," she insisted. She smiled at her son. Already his cheeks were pinking up. "He's going to be fine."

"As soon as he's stable, I'll put him under and set the bone," Greg added evenly. He didn't want Eleanor to give any more blood than absolutely necessary.

Phillip cleared his throat. "I think I'll check on those other two scamps and find out what happened. That is if you don't need me now."

Grace assured him that three medical doctors could handle one emergency and he left, drawing the curtain behind him as he left. On the far side of the small ER, he saw Kenny. "Get on back to your room now lad. There's nothing to see here."

Kenny shook his head and pointed, making a garbled sound.

"One of the local boys fell and injured himself," Phillip replied. "The others will handle everything. Get on back to bed. I'll send someone to sit with you if you need."

Kenny shook his head and slowly walked down the hall. Phillip watched him until he vanished into his room and then sighed. He was going to have trouble with that boy; he just knew it. Reluctantly, he left, to discover from the others exactly what had happened… and to get Carl to come keep watch over the latest addition to their little family.

-----

They were lying to him. Kenny was certain of it. He crawled back onto the bed in his room but only to sit and stare into the darkness. He wasn't sleepy. If Eleanor were telling the truth… he'd slept for years. He needed to work out, stretch, and rebuild his strength. And… he needed to find a sword.

The Swordmaster hadn't had one on him when he'd ordered him back to his room. In fact, he hadn't noticed anyone carrying one since he'd awakened. That meant they were likely stashed somewhere close. All he had to do was find one.

When Eleanor had been called away by Denis, he'd sensed in her absence, the presence of the other immortals she'd mentioned. He'd slipped through the corridor until his sense of them pounded in his head. Standing on tiptoe, he'd seen them lying in their beds in the dimly lit ward. It was grotesque! They lay there unmoving while machines beeped around them. Was that how he'd been? He'd crouched back down after seeing them and had grinned. They'd make easy targets.

He was on his way back to his room when he'd sensed another immortal… one who seemed to draw him… interest him. The feel of her was unlike anything he'd ever felt. He wasn't certain who she was… but she was pregnant. That he saw clearly. Once he'd gotten over his surprise at such impossibility, he watched her from the shadows get one of the trauma areas ready to receive a patient. Shortly later, she was joined by Greg, who grabbed a gurney and headed back out. He'd called her Grace and had said something about them bringing him in.

Kenny had crouched in the shadows to watch and wait. Grace's presence still teased at him. He wanted to meet her… touch her… protect her. Kenny had almost been ready to step out of the shadows when Greg, Eleanor and Phillip had arrived with a boy on a gurney. The boy was pre-immortal. Kenny grinned. No wonder they were worried. If he were badly hurt… he'd be like Kenny… an immortal easy to kill. He'd licked his lips in anticipation.

He'd been on his way back to his room when Phillip had spotted him. That had been unfortunate, but not devastating. He'd just have to work harder at appearing to be what he wasn't… a small and very lost and confused little boy. Well… he'd had centuries of practice.

As he stretched and went through routines that his mind remembered but that his body didn't… trying to make the muscles recall the moves… he'd seen Denara and Denis. That might mean that Chou and the others from the convent school were likely here as well. Well he'd have something for all of them… he just needed to plan everything very carefully. But first… he had to find a sword.

-----

**Near Waterloo Battlefield:**

It was fully night by the time the trucker pulled off to the side of the road to let Duncan out. He waved to the immortal and then pulled back onto the road, continuing his run. Duncan watched him leave and then headed into the Belgian countryside. He'd lucked into the ride and had made good time. He'd arrived here far faster than he'd originally thought he would.

Paul hadn't asked too many questions. Evidently the trucker was accustomed to hitchhikers who kept their reasons for traveling this way to themselves. Nevertheless, Duncan had laughed at his jokes, and had commented on politics when asked for his opinion.

Now on his own, he shoved his hands into the pockets of the cloth coat and strolled across the dark fields. He still needed to grid the map. The starting point had to be the chapel… but was it the corner? Somehow he didn't think so. It was off to one side… but near the center of that side of the field. Not that the battlefield was a square, of course, but the map was. It looked like the chapel was the queen's row.

Once he got the grid drawn, he'd need to orient himself and figure out how big the squares were. The map was not necessarily drawn to scale, but he felt it was fairly accurate. The main thing was that now he had an idea about where to begin looking.

As he exited the stand of trees and headed for the chapel, he disturbed some nesting birds that circled into the night air. Some distance away he could hear an owl hoot and recalled an old American Indian legend about owls foretelling death. But the owl seemed only to hoot… and he had no sense of it calling his name.

Soon he stood by the chapel and faced the battlefield. The chapel had belonged to one of the landowners in the area. It had been, in 1815, a small run-down stone and timber structure that had seen better days. Darius had used it as a hospital for the wounded… a place of Sanctuary. In the intervening years, it had been de-sanctified and enlarged to house a small interactive museum. He'd been through it numerous times in the past few years… looking for a clue. He'd never considered that its location was a clue.

He'd need to wait until first light to do much more… but he wanted to be out of here before too many tourists arrived. Squatting down, he leaned back against the wall of the old chapel and contemplated the rolling hillside before him.

Now that he was here, his mind returned to Kate… and to Amanda. He leaned his head against the stone wall of the chapel and closed his eyes… recalling the last time that he and Amanda had made love. In the darkness… his fingers moved slightly in the patterns that Methos and Eleanor had taught them… and he ached for Amanda. He longed to hold her and run his hands and tongue over her… taste her and lose himself in her.

He clenched his hands and shook his head, recalling the de Valicourts. He wasn't certain he wanted anyone in his thoughts. Methos and warned him that was part of it. "She will always be there," Evidently Gina and Robert had thought they were ready and had forged ahead with the joining… figuring their centuries together more than equaled the on-again, off-again relationships of the others. Evidently they'd felt they were ready. Evidently… they hadn't been.

And Kate… he'd wanted her in the moments after quickening her. He'd wanted to gather her into his arms and make love to her… make all the disappointments of her immortal life go away… at least for a while. It had taken all of his willpower to back away and let another man have her… father her child. He wasn't even certain if he'd insisted on having her at that point that a child would have been conceived. And yet… he'd wanted her. The chimera of his overwhelming desire for her long ago… his need to kill her to keep her as she always was… haunted him. He needed to help her now. And… if a child had been conceived… she'd be vulnerable now to other immortals. Unless Alistair understood what was needed… the child would drain Kate… and Duncan would have been a part of killing her a second time. He had to find her! He had to protect her and her child… their child!

Duncan found himself smiling at the thought of small version of himself or of her running around the Highlands. He could almost see it… feel it… touch it. He could almost hear a child's laughter, wafting on the breeze. Startled he opened his eyes… aware that the first light of dawn was in the eastern sky. The darkness was fading to gray… and soon color would return to the world. He'd been asleep and his legs had cramped up.

Duncan rose and stretched, aware that he was getting hungry. His stomach rumbled as he thought of food. Pushing the thought away, he crossed to an acrylic display that showed the battlefield. He laid his map on it the case and pulled out the piece of string he'd gotten from Paul, the trucker.

Holding it taut over the map, he began to fill in the lines until he saw a grid pattern forming. It wouldn't be long now… he was certain of it… before he'd finally found what it was that Darius had left here for him. Folding the map over, he located two landmarks and began to pace off the distance between them and then to measure the distance between them on the map. He needed points of reference… and he needed a scale to ascertain the grid point he needed on the battlefield.

Daylight grew in the east as he began to measure.

-----


	37. Chapter ThirtySix

**Chapter Thirty-Six  
****Off the Coast of Australia:**

Seagulls dipped and circled in the distance. The sounds of their cries sounding like the screams of the dying on a battlefield. Derrick shuddered slightly, sensing some ghost of past memory float through his consciousness and then evaporate utterly until he had only the sense of _déjà vu_ about him as he steered along the shore. They'd make landfall later today.

The others were excited, especially Caspar, about sightseeing in a land where English was actually spoken. He'd never had to learn other languages, and he was finding it difficult. Given enough time, he'd learn… they all did… if he had the time.

From the pilothouse of the yacht, Derrick could see them all… Michelle and Amber were chatting amiably while sunning themselves. Masahiro-_sensei_ and Caspar were leaning on the railing as they gestured at the horizon. Neither had ever been to Australia… and Derrick could imagine their conversation about what they'd see and learn. David was patiently showing Burke how to sand wood. It all seemed very dream-like and perfectly normal, as if it were a moment caught in time.

Derrick wondered that they'd come with him… and wondered what it was he was sailing towards. The horizon held the promise of tomorrow. So why did he sense storm clouds there? What was waiting for him? And what would happen to his friends if the storm overtook them? Was he leading them to their deaths?

He leaned back in the pilot's chair attempting to focus on something pleasant… some memory that would dispel his fears. He was a boy again… oblivious of immortals… and sitting in Ellie's lap. She was just Ellie then… his sister… and the darkness of his forgotten past was kept at bay as she taught him to use the computer. He was still six, and it was long before they'd begun running. Before Ellie had been spooked by the stalking presence of an immortal. When they'd just been two young people alone in the world… but warm and happy and content. She smelled like the honey he'd liked to drown his toast in, and when she laughed, it sounded like small tinkling silver bells.

But the raucous cries of the gulls intruded. Derrick opened his eyes. The past was only a memory… it was his yesterday. It was pleasant to recall the good times… but it wasn't where he was needed. Here and now… facing his unknown future was what he needed to do. He sensed an impending doom out there waiting for him… a test… a decision… something that might make or break him.

A cloud passed over the sun… momentarily dimming the day. Amber sat up to sip at some iced drink that Michelle had made and laughed lightly. When the sun returned… the rays made her hair glow for a moment and Derrick wondered if she were his salvation… or the one who would lead him to his doom. He pushed the thought away and tried to recapture the sense of perfection that he'd felt earlier in the scene of immortals coexisting without swords. Having now taken a quickening… and having felt the loss of self and the gain of power for himself… Derrick wondered if immortals as a race could ever give up the game… and the enticing and hypnotic feel of another immortal's quickening… or if it was only a dream… and death was the only reality that they could count on.

He found he was gripping the wheel tightly… as if attempting to steer a clear path among the oncoming storms. On the deck… his friends seemed once more frozen in time… oblivious to what only he could somehow sense.

-----

Several hours later, as the sun was falling towards evening, and the air seemed cool and fresh, the **_Lady Ambergris II_** sailed into Roebuck Bay on the northwestern coast of Australia. The red rock formations in the area shone as if bleeding in the slant of afternoon sunlight. Derrick shivered, wondering if he were delivering them all into the mouth of Hell.

As he steered the yacht slowly into a slip at the wharf… he felt the presence of an immortal… as did the others. They clustered along one side and stared at the wharf. He didn't want to look. He feared who would be there.

"Tie us off," he called out to the others and watched with satisfaction as they turned to grab the hawsers and tossed them to the dock. Caspar leaped over the side to the dock and secured them. Only after the ship was secured and the electronics shut down, did Derrick cross to the port railing.

"Who is she?" Michelle asked.

Derrick sighed. "Cassandra," he said quietly.

The ancient immortal stood in the center of the dock staring up at all of them. Her long main of tangled brown hair blew in the offshore breeze. She was simply dressed in a long off-white dress with crocheted sleeves and white boots. Around her neck was a necklace of burnt orange stones, strung on thick black cord. She was waiting for them.

Derrick motioned for David to lower the gangway and waited for Cassandra to make her way aboard. She moved smoothly, confidently as she stepped onto the deck, nodding politely at the others and threading her way through them towards Derrick.

Amber moved into her way to prevent her approach.

Derrick saw Cassandra's eyes widen as though she recognized her and then she smiled. "I'm a friend of Derrick's." She tossed her mane of hair and regarded him openly. "Tell them Derrick."

Derrick nodded as he clapped his hands on Amber's shoulders and moved her aside. "What do you want Cassandra?"

"You don't seem surprised to see me," she replied with a hint of a smile.

Derrick shrugged. "I always figured you'd show up one day."

She smiled more broadly as she caressed his cheek. "You look exactly as I knew you would all those years ago."

"And you knew where to find me?"

Cassandra laughed. "I saw this moment." She dropped her hand and turned. "And you've already begun."

"Begun what?" Derrick asked.

Cassandra smiled and turned toward the others. "To change things. I recall Michelle and David from our recovery groups a few years ago, but I don't know the others. Introduce me to your friends."

Derrick made the introductions and watched while Cassandra smiled and chatted with all of them a moment. Then she turned back to him. "We need to talk."

Derrick shrugged. "So talk."

"In private."

No!" Amber suddenly yelled. She pushed in close to Derrick. He grabbed her hands and held them down.

"Whatever you have to say to me can surely be said in front of others."

Cassandra took several deep breaths and then turned away. "The paths of one's future are always clouded. It would be best if I spoke only to you. Speaking in front of the others… changes things. Foretelling the future is always more accurate if few know of what is to come." She turned back to him. "I'm not your enemy. I'm here to help."

Derrick finally nodded. "Give them your sword and we'll talk."

Cassandra looked startled for a moment… and then did as he requested. She handed it to Masahiro-_sensei_ with a bow. Derrick motioned them all to go ashore as they'd originally planned. "I'll join you shortly."

Amber shook her head. "I'm goin' nowhere."

"Amber… please. It'll be fine." He pulled her to him and kissed her with a smile. "You worry too much."

Finally she allowed herself to be drawn away and down the gangway. She kept looking back at him… obviously unhappy that he was sending her away.

Derrick turned to Cassandra. "What's this about?"

"You really don't know? I told Eleanor what I saw in your future. She never told you?"

"No."

"Yet you know… I think."

Derrick sighed and leaned his elbows on the rail as he stared at the others making their way along the dock. "I see things… but not the future… not really."

"But you expected me." She stepped to his side, softly laying a hand on his arm.

"I expected someone. I knew a decision loomed before me."

"I'm here to guide you. I can see great things for you… but you must let me help."

Derrick looked at her. "You're free to remain. We'll stay here a few days and then sail east… India I thought."

Cassandra laughed. "Yes… India. I knew that. Do you want to know whom you will meet there?"

Derrick shook his head. "I don't want to know the future. I only want to enjoy the time I have. No one should know the day of their death."

"But what you do today will decide whether you live or die."

Derrick straightened and slapped his hands on the rail. "Then I will make the decision on that day. I will not live my life trying to achieve what someone else sees for me in some vision. Now I wish to join my friends. We're going to dinner." He gestured toward the gangway.

Cassandra bowed her head. "As you wish. I may join you later… or come aboard later once I have my things."

"As you wish."

She smiled. "My sword?"

"Masahiro has it with him."

"Then I'll accompany you to dinner." Cassandra silkily slipped one arm into his and stepped lightly along with him, her long legs keeping pace with his.

-----

Over dinner at an outdoor cafe not far from the marina, the immortals laughed and talked of mundane things.

Derrick leaned thoughtfully back in his chair; one arm was curled about Amber's shoulders as he played with her hair. Across the table, Cassandra joined in conversation, occasionally looking over at him and smiling. About her he could sense an aura so white it was almost blinding. In that aura there was no danger… no deception… nothing but her need to help him. That need seemed almost overpowering to him. He wondered how he could help her… give her what she so desperately needed… and not become lost in that need.

"I saw where Ayers Rock is in the area," Michelle was saying. "I've always wanted to see it."

Amber laughed. "Me too." She turned toward Derrick with a teasing smile. "Do you suppose we could go? Like the Grand Canyon?" She winked and he noted one of her hands had dropped between his legs. He pressed them together around her hand, serene in her intimate touch.

"We'll see," he said without commitment. He had planned to spend several days here. They needed to re-supply and he wanted to replace ropes and fix sails before their long voyage across the Indian Ocean. He was even considering pulling the yacht from the water to check her hull. He'd have plenty to keep him busy. "Maybe you and the others could go."

In Amber's eyes he saw an unasked question. "Later," he murmured softly and kissed her hair, still keeping her hand trapped between his legs. "All of you should take some time to see this part of the world. When we leave in a few days, we'll be at sea for some time."

He listened to them chatting about plans as if they were truly what they presented themselves to be… just tourists, and nothing more. Cassandra just smiled.

After they'd paid the check, the psychic left them. "I'll be along in the morning. I still have to collect my things." She waved and walked sedately down the street… her hips swinging in her stride in a most becoming manner.

"Now that is a woman," Caspar whispered. He playfully grabbed himself and nudged Derrick's side as he whistled after her. She looked over her shoulder at them and smiled mysteriously. "Maybe Burke should find a new roommate," Caspar added hoarsely.

"Perhaps," Derrick replied as they turned toward the wharf. His arm was still slung over Amber's shoulder and they were bumping hips as they walked. "At any rate… better let her make the first move."

Masahiro grunted. "I can always sleep on deck. I have always liked the sea. It is why I was in the Japanese Imperial Navy once upon a time."

"World War II?" Caspar asked. When Masahiro nodded, Caspar shook his head. "Man… if I'd met you then… I'd have challenged your ass."

"A few did," the Japanese master chuckled.

"What happened?"

Masahiro met Caspar Wingate's eyes and smiled. "They died." He pivoted and walked ahead of them.

"Good thing he's on our side," Caspar muttered before he, Michelle and David, and Burke began singing some drunken sea shanty for the hell of it. They locked arms and weaved back and forth across the pier.

"I don't think Cassandra should join us," Amber whispered to him.

"Why not?"

"I don't like the way she looks at ya."

"Jealous?" he teased and tickled her side.

She pushed his hand roughly away. "I'm serious. There is something superior and very predatory about her."

Derrick shrugged. They'd reached the marina by this point. "She's very old Amber."

"She acts like she's in charge."

"She's not."

Amber pulled free and stopped him. Her hands were on his chest. "She wants something."

Derrick nodded. "I know. She wants to help me."

"How do ya know her?"

Derrick gently stroked the side of her face. "It's a long story."

"We have time."

He pulled her into an embrace. "It might take all night."

She kissed him lightly and laughed. "Then give me the short version."

Joyfully, Derrick lifted her up and tossed her over one shoulder. "Then we best hurry… as I want time for other activities," he laughed as he then raced toward their yacht and up the gangway. Amber laughed and beat her fists on his back. Her blows bounced off… like ineffective pebbles tossed at boulders.

Once in their cabin, Derrick tossed her onto the bunk and leaped atop her… kissing her urgently while his hands fumbled with her clothes. Her hands pulled urgently at his clothes as if they were impediments to their need to be together. He heard cloth shred and tear… and buttons bounce on the wooden floor. Then he was consumed by her… the smell of her… the touch of her. All existence focused on her need for him.

Later, she lay curled in his arms, he traced his fingers across her skin in patterns of movement that had no meaning… but that seemed somehow right… seemed to make her more his.

"So," she said dreamily, her voice husky, her hands beginning to move over him. "Tell me about Cassandra."

"I was ten when I met her. She saw my future, although she only told Ellie about it. Still… I understood that she saw something for me."

"This future?"

Derrick shrugged, his fingers still moving over her. "She thinks I can end the game."

"She told Ellie that?"

He shook his head. "I'm not certain. I knew that while she was no threat to me… she was a threat to Ellie. I could see her killing Ellie."

Amber rose on one elbow and leaned over him. "Why?"

"That's the long story." Derrick hesitated. He had to keep Methos' identity a secret. He'd promised him that he'd never tell anyone. Finally he found a way in truth bereft of details. "Cassandra knew Adam long before he ever met Ellie… long before she was ever born. They were lovers. It ended badly. When Cassandra realized that Ellie and Adam were together… she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to kill Ellie."

"But she didn't."

Derrick shook his head. "Because I asked her not to. I needed Ellie, and she knew that. Without Ellie… the future Cassandra had glimpsed evaporated. And she wanted that future. Years later, when that Watcher group kidnapped immortals like you and Michelle and David… they also kidnapped Cassandra and Adam."

"And?"

"And somewhere in the dreams… they made their peace with each other."

"So ya really think she's here to help ya?" Amber leaned down and let her tongue move over his chest. She bit one nipple playfully. He hissed in pleasure as she climbed onto him. He closed his eyes and luxuriated in the way she covered him, touched him, and caressed him… the way her mouth moved over him and the way she nipped at him… inflaming him.

Filled with need again, he flipped her over and entered her… loving the way her hips rose to him as he thrust deeply into her. Derrick felt that he could know her a thousand millennia… and never get enough of her.

-----

The boat rocked gently and Amber could see light beginning to fade into the eastern sky. Needing to pee, she climbed over a still-sleeping Derrick, pulled on some discarded shorts and one of Derrick's T-shirts as she padded in her bare feet to the head. She always laughed to herself at that name for the facilities. She wondered how it had come to be.

Washing her face, she ran fingers through her blonde hair, noting how bleached it had become lately. It was nearly white instead of amber gold. Finding a spare hair band, she drew it up into a ponytail as she headed to the deck for a few moments of fresh air and quiet before the others awakened and the activities of the day surrounded her. It was like the old days, her quiet moments at dawn… the days when she'd been alone. "Ya were wrong, Connor," she whispered to herself. "Immortals _can_ share their lives with other immortals. It's possible… I know it now."

On deck, she was startled by the heady presence of Cassandra. The psychic stood leaning on the port rail and staring at the shore. She looked over at Amber and smiled. "We need to talk," Cassandra said.

Amber swallowed nervously and stepped to her side. "Aye… we need to talk."

-----


	38. Chapter ThirtySeven

**Chapter Thirty-Seven  
****Niebos:**

J. D. struggled to consciousness. He felt like he'd been sleeping for a long time. His right arm hurt… and his left hand hurt. Glancing at them… he noted the cool red cast on his right arm as he recalled the fall and the blood. _Guess I broke it_, he thought, and then glanced at his left hand.

He saw his mother, head resting on one hand on his bed, gripping his other hand tightly. He smiled. He hadn't meant to worry her. He truly hadn't. "Mom?" he croaked.

Eleanor lifted her head. He could see her eyes were puffy. She must have cried earlier. She looked pale and worried. J. D. smiled at her and tried to pull his left hand free of hers.

She let it go and then brushed his hair from him face. "You've got some color in your cheeks again," she said softly. Her voice held no recrimination… only a sense of wonder.

J. D. swallowed nervously. His throat was dry. "I'm thirsty," he managed to say.

She picked up a paper cup of ice from the bedside table, and spooned a few into his mouth. "Slowly, J. D.," she told him when he sucked them in and grunted for more.

"Sorry I fell," he finally told her. And he was sorry. Sorry for the fall… sorry for the injury… and sorry for worrying her.

"You boys shouldn't go up to the temple alone," she said softly.

J. D. nodded. Evidently she didn't know they'd been down to the cove. Chou and Denis had kept that secret.

"Won't happen again," he said. He looked around the plain hospital room. "Does Dad know?" he asked hopefully.

"I haven't told him yet. I wanted to be certain you were all right."

J. D. met her gaze. "He's busy isn't he? He can't be bothered with us when he's busy."

"Joseph Darius Pierson you are more wrong than you can possibly know," his mother lectured. "You are the most important person on this earth to him. He loves you."

"He loves you!" the boy replied angrily. "You're the important one. I'm a disappointment." He wanted to roll over on his side, but the cast interfered. He began to sob.

Eleanor set the cup down and rose to lean over him. "He loves you. He just shows it in a different way. You are still a miracle to him."

"Why?" the boy sniffed, and rubbed at his eyes.

"Because he never really had children before. He sees himself in you and he wants so much for you. He especially wants you to grow up and have a good life. He does not want to have to bury you."

J. D.'s face felt hot. If he'd fallen all the way down, would he have died? Would he have broken his neck or cracked his skull so that his brains spilled out? And who was the woman he thought he'd seen in the waves? "Would I come back?"

"Why do you ask?" Eleanor said with a sharp intake of breath.

J. D. tried to shrug and regretted the movement as it made his right arm begin throbbing. "I just wondered if I was like Chou and Denis?"

"They're immortals who will never grow up J. D." she replied flatly.

"But why do some grow up and others don't? You and Dad grew up!"

"Fate decides." Eleanor gazed at him sadly. "Please J. D., you're a little boy and we love you. Just be a little boy and bask in innocence a while longer. Live and grow up… don't court death… he might take you from us."

J. D. wasn't satisfied, but it was all he dared ask. They were keeping things from him… and he wanted… no… he needed answers. He lifted his left hand and curled his fingers around his mother's. "Okay. No more climbing the temple mount at night and jumping from the columns." It was a lie… but he meant it. He wouldn't do it again at night. Besides… there was still the cove path that he could use for a bit. His answers were in the cove. He smiled winningly at his mother, hoping that she would accept his promise and let it be.

She kissed him and smiled. "That is all I ask. Now I'll call your Dad." She straightened and gave him a wink as she left. "I won't be far. Push the call button if you need me."

J. D. settled back in the bed and stared out the window at the familiar landscape as seen from a new perspective. His door opened again. He turned his head toward it to see an unfamiliar face. He smiled. "Hi," he said to the blonde boy. "Who are you?"

The boy stared at him intently and then tried to say something. Nothing came out. He smiled and shrugged.

J. D. grinned. "Are you sick too?"

The boy shook his head. He glanced back into the corridor, then eased into the room and closed the door. Grinning widely... he approached J. D.'s bed and climbed up on it. He pointed at the cast.

J. D. shrugged. "I fell."

The boy nodded. He made a motion for J. D. to continue.

"Oh… cause you can't talk… You want me to?"

The boy nodded.

J. D. took a deep breath and let it out. "I was with Chou and Denis… do you know them?"

The boy nodded.

"Anyway, I fell. I guess I scared the grownups. Good thing they knew what to do."

The door opened and one of the day nurses entered with a dinner tray. "Eleanor said you were hungry…" She paused when she saw the other boy. "Oh… hello Kenny. Are you two getting acquainted?"

Both boys nodded.

"Kenny… huh. Nice name," J. D. said and held out his left hand. Kenny grasped it and shook it firmly. "I'm J. D." J. D. continued.

Kenny scooted off the bed and into the chair J. D.'s mother had just vacated. The nurse set the try on a table and pulled it over the bed. She adjusted the bed so that J. D. was sitting up. He lifted the cover and made a face. "Soup?"

"You need fluids."

"But I'd rather have a hot dog or pizza," he whined.

"Soup and lemonade and ice cream this meal. If all goes well… maybe something more to your liking for dinner."

"Does that mean I'm stuck here? Why can't I go home? I feel fine."

"Maybe later she said. If you need anything, ring the bell. I'm Diana." She waved and left.

J. D. grimaced as he picked up a spoon and stirred the soup. "At least it's chicken noodle," he sighed and began to slurp up the noodles.

From the chair, Kenny watched him with a smirk as well as a very predatory gleam in his eyes.

-----

Eleanor tapped Methos' code on her phonecard and waited. She'd been so focused on J. D. and on staying positive that she hadn't even let herself consider calling Methos until she was certain that their son was out of danger.

"Hello?"

She saw him in the small photo. She smiled. "Where are you?"

Methos looked around and blinked his eyes. "Sorry. We're in Paris. I needed to see Joe and we were up late last night." His hair was ruffled. He rubbed his eyes. "What's up? You were humming so contentedly last night I wondered what you were up to."

"Setting a broken arm," Eleanor replied.

Methos stared at her across the miles. "What? Who?"

Eleanor shrugged with a smile. "J. D. fell. He's fine and chomping to be up and running again. I didn't want to worry you in case you were driving."

"You're certain he's all right?"

Eleanor nodded. "He's fine. He misses you. He has the strangest idea that he's a disappointment to you… that you don't love him."

Methos lowered his head, running a hand through his hair and sighed. Finally he looked back at her. "I must be a most disappointing father if he feels like that."

"He misses you terribly. I miss you." She laughed when she said it and bit her lip, shaking her head. "I do you know."

"I'll be home soon. I'm taking Robert with me to London. MacLeod might be there."

"Joe doesn't know where he is?"

"No… " He briefly filled her in on what he'd learned about MacLeod and his search for Kate and Alistair Craille.

Eleanor paled. "You don't suppose he and they…" She stopped, unable to voice her fear.

Methos nodded. "Knowing the Scot I'd say yes. He's always felt guilty about Kate and would do anything to make it up to her."

"But he knows this is dangerous. Surely he told them the dangers."

Methos shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he just feels the need to be there and share this time with them."

Eleanor rubbed her brow, feeling very cold and uncertain of things. "He should have waited. He should have spoken to us. It's not safe for her out there. You know that."

Methos nodded. "That's why I have to follow-up on this. Tell J. D. I'll be there soon… and we'll go riding or even fishing. Whatever he wants… as soon as he's better."

"He's fine now. I have a feeling he'll be hard to control once he's no longer in pain."

"Was it a bad break?"

Eleanor nodded. "Compound."

"What was he doing?"

Eleanor shrugged. "The boys say they were fooling around on the temple mount but I think there was more to it than that… and so does Phillip."

"They were at the cove," Methos said flatly. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

Eleanor rubbed her brow. "That's what we think. Phillip has promised to have a talk with Chou and Denis later today. We may need to do something about Valeraine sooner rather than later… despite Phillip's objections."

"What do you propose?"

Eleanor sighed. "I don't know. Have you seen Alisaunne?"

"Recently. She's fine."

"I worry about her being all alone."

"I do too," he replied wistfully.

"Sometimes I hate Darius for taking her away from us," Eleanor said.

"Sometimes I do too," Methos replied honestly. Between the miles their walls fell and they felt each other's sorrow.

"We weren't ready," Eleanor whispered.

"No… we weren't and he knew it."

"And we can never go back and recapture that."

"No… we can't."

Each stared morosely at the other, their pain and sense of loss palpable to the other.

"I'll be home soon," he finally said. His thumb caressed the screen, obliterating his photo. Eleanor laughed. "Tell the kids I love them," he added.

"I will." She tapped off the connection and lowered her head into her hands. She hadn't slept much last night, fearful of the walls crumbling while she was still worried. But now… she could let them crumble away and feel him with her, holding her in his mind like some precious jewel. _Come home soon!_ she thought as she let sleep take her for a little while. _We miss you!_

-----

Phillip paced back and forth before the two silent boys. "Were you at the cove?"

They glanced at one another and slunk lower in their seats.

"Do you know what's there?" Phillip demanded.

The boys nodded.

"I will not lose another of you to that monster! Listen to me… you will never go there again. And you will never allow J. D. to go there. Do you understand me?" He was desperate in his words to them. "No more victims! I've lost too many people I care about to him. No more!"

The boys nodded sheepishly.

"We will speak no more of this. But if I ever hear of you two or J. D. ever being there again… it will not go easy on you."

Chou rose and cast his arms about the swordmaster's waist. Denis followed suit. "We're sorry," Denis mumbled.

"I will not lose anyone else," Phillip reiterated and hugged the boys who were not really boys to him. He meant it. Nestor would not take another one… even if he had to encase Valeraine in steel-enforced concrete and bury her in the deepest part of the ocean or a volcano's fiery depths. He would not see another of those he cared for change and become the thing he hated. He'd sworn it every day and every night at low tide. He would not allow the monster out… no matter what.

-----


	39. Chapter ThirtyEight

**Chapter Thirty-Eight  
****Waterloo Battlefield:**

The squares were too big.

Duncan stood staring at the battlefield, still uncertain as to how to begin searching… and uncertain of what he was searching for… or even how to find it.

For a moment, it was 1920 and he had stopped in to see Darius who was opening a package from someone.

"Ah… I've always loved these," he said.

"Russian nesting dolls," Duncan remarked.

Darius nodded. "One inside the other. If you keep searching… you might find the prize." He began gently to open one doll and then the one inside it and the one inside it.

Duncan laughed. "By the time you get to the innermost one… whatever is there can't be much."

Darius laughed as he opened the last doll and popped a piece of candy into his mouth. "Depends on what you're searching for."

Duncan looked around for sticks and marked off the four corners of the square by sticking the sticks upright in the earth. "Once again, and then again and again," he mused. "Q4 all the way." He paced off the side nearest the chapel, and began again.

A dozen reductions later, he stared down at the meter-square area of field. He saw nothing. Had he measured incorrectly? Had he angled the grid incorrectly? He looked around and slowly paced about the square in an ever-increasing spiral outward. It had to be here… but what was he searching for?

Around him he noted summer tourists. A few stared at his odd movements and shook their heads. He was gathering too much attention. He needed to find what he sought and get out of here. He couldn't dig up the whole battlefield! He sighed and returned to the last square and stared at the now trampled grass. In one corner was a brick-sized rectangle of black rock. Duncan stared at it thoughtfully. Most of the stone in this area was granite or limestone… both a lighter shade of gray. He crouched next to the rock, deeply imbedded into the earth as if it had always been there. But had it? He touched it, feeling its slick glassy texture.

Now it was 1848 and Darius was working on something in the chapel garden.

"What's that?" Duncan had asked curiously.

"Black marble from near the Black Sea where I was born and lived until my first death."

Duncan had touched it, feeling its cold glossy texture.

"One of the mountains fell in an earthquake the year I was born. There was lots of this stone lying about. I sent for some years ago."

"What are you doing with it?"

"Carving it. The father of one of my friends was a worker in stone and made the most marvelous things. When I wasn't working for my father at the forge, I sometimes went to Ska's shop and watched him work stone." Darius had chuckled. "Maybe in another life… I might have been a stone-cutter."

"But what are you making?" Duncan had asked.

Darius had moved his hands and held up a small figure. "Chess pieces."

"You made your set?"

Darius nodded. "Centuries ago. Now… I make them for friends."

That Christmas, Duncan had received the set he'd kept in Paris… beautifully carved and reverently made… he'd used it often. After Darius' death… he'd thought of him every time he moved those figures. He also had Darius' personal set in storage. Perhaps he should give it to Alisaunne.

He dug around the rock with his fingers until he managed to pull it loose. Holding his breath… he turned it over and brushed away the dirt. At first he saw nothing. Then he did. Carved into the underside of the rock was the rune for friend. Not the arcane symbols of their collective past… but simply the rune… the one Darius had taught Duncan so long ago. Duncan breathed out forcefully even as his fingers rubbed the rune. But what did it mean?

He stared at the hole it had left and placed one hand in the hole… running his fingers along the sides and bottom of the hole. Feeling something smooth… he tapped the bottom and heard the unmistakable sound of metal. He dug into the hole until he pulled out a small metal tin box… the kind candy came in. He smiled and brushed the dirt away from it.

Carefully he opened the box and gasped. A scrap of MacLeod tartan lay before him. He glanced around at the other visitors and then lifted the scrap of cloth. Nestled on another piece of tartan were two chess figures… a white knight and a black bishop. Duncan lifted them before his eyes to examine them. He ran his fingers over the delicate carving on them, marveling at the detail and intricacy of the pieces. Darius had outdone himself with these. He turned the knight over to get a look at the base, wondering if Darius had left his mark there. He had… but not the one Duncan was expecting. It was the mysterious symbol for champion. Quickly he lifted the bishop… warrior it read.

"All right," Duncan murmured, "that can't be all." He shifted the other scrap of cloth and saw the piece of paper with his name written on the outside. His hand froze. This was it… it had to be. Carefully… as if afraid that the paper would crumble and the message be lost… he pulled it out of the box and unfolded it. His fingers caressed the thick vellum… the same as his other letter was written on he was certain.

_Duncan,_

_It is the 12th of February in the year of 1993 as I write this. You are currently in America and I have no idea when or even if I will see you again. Yet if you are reading this, then all my fears have come to fruition and I have not merely left Paris as I intend, but have died._

_I once told you that I sometimes have prophetic dreams. I'm having them again. I keep seeing men with swords on holy ground. I fear for what might happen._

_I've hidden…_

"_Monsieur_?" a nearby voice asked.

Duncan looked up at the docent and smiled as he quickly folded the letter and stuffed it into his pocket. He replaced the lid on the box and shoved the rock back into its hole. "_Pardon si' vous plaî_," he apologized. "_Ma fiancée…_" he shrugged, and tried to explain that it was a scavenger hunt.

The docent shook a finger at him and launched onto a lecture about the voluble nature of the battlefield and the importance of respect.

Duncan agreed with her, rose and stomped on the rock with a shrug and a smile as if to show her that no harm was done. He pocketed the tin box and left the battlefield. He'd find a place nearby to hole up while he studied the letter. Obviously what was in the box was only the next step on his journey. He'd searched too long for the answers for even his fears about Kate and her child to come first.

-----

Renting a room in a cheap hotel afforded Duncan a quiet place, away from observers to take the time to really study the contents of the box he'd found. He spread everything out onto the small scratched and chipped wooden table and took the time to first examine the box. Closing his eyes, he ran his fingers over it inside and out… to sense if there was anything there that he might otherwise have missed. There was nothing. It was perfectly smooth, its paint faded. "Sometimes a box is just a box," he chuckled and set it and the lid aside.

The tartan was apparently the same. It might have been cut from the same piece in which Darius had wrapped the Watcher's Chronicle that he'd stuffed in the wall for Duncan to find so long ago. He felt nothing in the cloth to indicate there was anything about the scraps that wasn't immediately apparent.

Next, he examined the intricately carved chess pieces. They were bigger and heavier than most chess pieces he'd seen. Their shapes, while still clearly that of the traditional knight and bishop, were nevertheless unusual. A man crouched low on the horse's head as if gripping the mane of a horse not fully carved. The small indentations indicating his eyes made it seem as if he stared at Duncan… no matter how he positioned the piece.

The same was true of the bishop. He slouched beneath the pointed miter, two-faced… each with eyes that found Duncan wherever he was. One face was twisted in anger… the other was benign and placid. "Your two halves my friend?" Duncan mused. "Who you were and who you became?" In one set of hands the figure held a sword… the other set offered benediction. Oddly… the sword was in the hands of the peaceful face. Duncan set the pieces aside and pulled out the letter, quickly finding the point where he'd stopped reading.

_I've hidden much of who I am and who I was inside of the role I chose to play. I was always sincere in my words and actions, but my reasons for certain actions were often ones neither you nor my other friends might necessarily have understood. The mask is finally off._

_No doubt you have met my friends by this time. I hope so, as it might take all of you to follow the clues to their proper end. Each of you will have something to bring to the table, as it were, which will help you see and understand the truths that await you all._

_I have only just begun to understand them, and they amaze me in their complexity and their simplicity. The "innocents" among us hold the answers, but it is we who must unlock the door._

_Charles leMartin_

Duncan stared at the signature. Obviously the name was a clue… but to what? He looked over the entire letter, finally noticing the quotation marks around innocents. He stared out the window. The children being born were the innocents among them… but was there another reason to call attention to the word?

He beat his knuckles on his forehead in frustration and let out a strangled cry. Then he began to chuckle, recalling that he'd learned that Darius had frequently traversed the streets of Paris as someone other than himself. Likely he'd taken the artifacts to Cassius for photographing and scanning into the computer program… but then had removed them. Until this moment, Duncan had not thought about Cassius' role in this. The old Roman had not left his manor house to hide things… Darius had done so. The artifacts were still in Paris… and he thought he knew now where to go. He smiled and repeated the name… "Charles leMartin."

-----

**Washington, D.C.:**

The information dribbled in. Burt's contacts and passwords helped the Watchers hack into systems they normally wouldn't have been able to and get at records that they normally didn't see. The tax records of the film company and the partial plate of the car led them finally to an address.

Straightening to work the kinks out of his back from leaning over the shoulders of the researchers, Burt stretched his arms. "We've got him… or at least a possibility," he said. "Let's see what else we can find out about this guy."

What else was… not much. They did get the name of Art Hinkle from a copy of the papers sub-letting the apartment from Stan Monroe. "That's an old dodge immortals use. They sub-let to themselves to further hide their identities," Cecile suggested.

Burt shook his head. "We still have nothing to prove he _is_ an immortal. Surely one would have been more careful in discarding the body parts of his latest victim." He rubbed his face and eyes, feeling like he hadn't slept in days.

"He wouldn't have known we'd be on him," Cecile insisted.

Burt stared at her. "If he was immortal, he would have. At least he'd have expected a Watcher to be on Manning."

"Not if he didn't know about them," Ryan Coltraine suddenly said. He shifted uncomfortably as everyone stared at him. "I mean Sarah didn't know about us. Maybe whoever this is doesn't either. Not everyone was affected by what went down a dozen years ago."

Burt nodded. "He's worth checking out… as is the apartment. But I don't want us to go in guns blazing, as it were. We need some subtlety."

"While we're being subtle… he could kill Sarah!" Ryan protested, leaping to his feet and gesturing impatiently.

Burt turned and grabbed the young man's shirt, wadding his fists into the material. "And going in too soon will guarantee it. For all we know… she is already dead." He shoved Ryan back into his chair and turned to face the others. "I want some suggested plans of attack for this place. Cecile… can you get me the blueprints?"

Cecile nodded and the group went back to work. In his chair Ryan balled his fists into his eyes and silently screamed.

-----

Sarah sat quietly in the chair as Kingsley placed a plate of food before her. She knew not to move until he was seated. She'd learned.

He slipped into the other chair and lifted his napkin, carefully smoothing it onto his lap. "I do so enjoy a formal dinner," he said genially. He gestured to Sarah.

She pulled the fine linen napkin from its ring and carefully positioned it on her lap… then rested her hands there… waiting.

Kingsley smiled. He gestured for her to begin eating as he made some inane small talk over the meal while buttering his roll and tasting his food.

If Sarah had had a knife… she'd have sliced his throat. Instead, she stirred the pasta with her fork and ate… managing not to gag… and swallowed a mouthful. Surprisingly… it was delicious. He hadn't cooked it… it was carryout from some restaurant. Their meal followed the pattern he'd been setting down for her. At first she'd been given no utensils and only finger food while he ate whatever he wanted. Then she'd had plastic while his were silver. She'd finally graduated to silver, but was still denied a knife. She supposed it would be that way for some time.

"What do you think?" he asked her.

Sarah froze… uncertain of what he'd asked her. Swallowing nervously, she smiled. "The food is delicious."

Kingsley slammed his silverware to the table and grabbed her by the neck. "You weren't paying attention. You have to pay attention!" Rising… he dragged her towards the torture room.

"No!" she begged, sobbing. "I'm trying. I'll be good! I'll pay attention!"

He paused and leered into her face. "I know you will." Then he opened the door and dragged her in for another lesson.

-----

* * *

_Please note: I will be out of town for a bit and will not have regular computer access. I have uploaded the next few chapters and will try to continue to add them to the story as time permits. Please be patient. -_elle 


	40. Chapter ThirtyNine

**Chapter Thirty-Nine  
****Niebos:**

Despite the wonder of this Greek island of immortals, Jayne Wyndham-Wyatt had been anxious ever since the day that Methos had left.

First of all… he brings her here… tells her she is to be the new Watcher in residence on the island… and then he vanishes a few hours later. He'd dumped her! She was still _his_ Watcher! He shouldn't have left her behind.

Angrily she'd stormed about the villa that day to the amusement of Douglas Monaghan.

"You might as well relax," the older man had said as he had watched her in Phillip's study. He'd lit a pipe and grinned. "Pacing isn't going to make him return even sooner."

"But he knows better!" Jayne had exclaimed.

"Likely so. And you could try to follow him… but unless Eleanor tells us where he's gone… you'll likely not find him."

"But what if something happens? That Manning woman is still out there!" Jayne had protested.

Monaghan had shrugged. "I'm certain he can avoid her. I sincerely doubt a challenge made him take off so fast."

Jayne had paused in her pacing. "You're right. So I need to figure this out. I've Watched him for nearly two.years. He hasn't taken off once in that time. He's really very quiet and off the radar of most immortals."

Monaghan had nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. I was here when Marianna was born. He told me then that remaining out of sight and out of challenges at least until the children were grown, was his main focus. He wanted to be certain that they grew up and that he was here to see it through." Monaghan smiled. As Watcher in residence on the island, he was one of three Watchers who knew the truth of J. D. and Marianna's birth… the others were his predecessor Stephan Portocullis and MacLeod's Watcher Joe Dawson. Dawson had warned Monaghan when he was assigned here that whatever he learned here would have to be kept in sealed Watcher records and that certain things would have to remain unreported until the immortals gave their permission for the information to be reported. Monaghan had no problem with that. He'd learned a lot over the last nine years and while he knew and accepted that many of his reports would be sealed and locked away… they would one day be common knowledge among Watchers.

Both he and Portocullis had been elderly when they'd been assigned. They'd both been experienced Watchers and willing and able to understand the importance of secrecy… especially after they'd arrived and witnessed the truths unfolding here.

But Jayne was still young… fresh off of her first assignment… Methos himself. Monaghan had shaken his head and wondered if she had been a good choice to be his successor. In fact, he wondered that she'd even been let in on the Methos secret and given the assignment of Watching him. She would not have been his choice had he been in charge.

But he wasn't in charge. He was just an old man ready for retirement. He knew to keep his mouth shut.

He'd watched Jayne's eyes widen when she'd seen the pregnant Grace Chandel. Her mouth had opened and he could almost see things falling into place for her about Methos and Eleanor's two children… that they weren't adopted… that they were theirs.

So far, neither had said anything. He'd been content to wait for her questions… but the day had finally come for him to move on. Monaghan had hoped that "Adam" would return before he had to leave. His curiosity wanted to cross that last "t" and dot the final "i" on whatever was happening here. If he left on the morning ferry as expected… he'd likely never know… not unless he met and spoke with Joe Dawson he supposed.

"So… anything else before I take my leave of you?" he finally asked as he watched Jayne still pacing days later as she read reports of the island's immortals.

"What? Oh… no. I think I have everything," Jayne said as she waved at him distractedly.

Instantly figuring that she was still thinking of Methos, he went on. "You do realize that immortals have gotten on without us in their lives for millennia, don't you?" he tried again.

Jayne stopped and took a deep breath. "Yes… but I've lived with his family… I've traveled with him. I wouldn't let him brush me off… and as soon as my back is turned…" She slapped her legs with both hands at her side. "… he's off like the wind."

Monaghan smiled a bit secretively. "Like the wind," was a phrase that Phillip had used in speaking about Methos once. Monaghan had a feeling that there was more to it than that, as if the old elements of creation myths were represented by certain immortals. Phillip had laughed at Monaghan's suggestion… but Monaghan was still curious.

"I'm the old soldier I suppose," he murmured to Jayne as she accompanied him to the ferry. "It's time I fade away. Are you certain you have no further questions?"

"I have the copies of your records. I'll be studying them," she laughed. "I can't think of thing now… but I'm certain that as soon as you're gone… I'll have a thousand questions."

"Then don't be afraid to message me or call me. You have the number."

Jayne nodded.

"And the number of my predecessor… as well as Joe Dawson's number?"

Jayne chuckled and nodded. "I have them written down as well as entered into my PPC. You three are my contacts when I have questions. No other Watcher is to be admitted to this island and no information about what happens here is to ever be given to another Watcher."

He chuckled. "By George…"

"I think I've got it," she finished with a laugh and kissed his cheek. "I'll be in touch."

Douglas squeezed her hand before climbing the gangplank of the ferry. Retirement beckoned like a welcome friend. But he wished he'd remained just a bit longer. He'd liked to have seen the next act of the tale of the immortals.

Jayne watched the ferry pull out and vanish on the horizon before returning to the villa. She'd learned that J. D. had fallen last night and was in the hospital. Perhaps they'd let her go by and see him. She had always been fond of Methos and Eleanor's two children… even before she had learned that they were truly theirs. The whole idea of immortals even having children was so contrary to everything she'd ever learned about them that it still staggered her imagination. Part of her wanted to call her dad in London and tell him. But he was not on the "need to know" list. Keeping this secret was important… if not crucial to the immortals' future. But she already missed her father… missed talking to him. Surely she could still talk to him some. Surely the ban on information would not apply to her just talking to her father.

She sped up the dirt path to the villa, already anxious to be about her duties now that she was well and truly the Watcher of Niebos. Arriving at the villa, she saw two of the young immortals "… Small Ones," she reminded herself lolling about on the terrace. It was the two boys Chou and Denis. They looked morose.

"Good morning," she said brightly, realizing that she'd likely need to learn some Greek while she was here. She wondered if the boys spoke English.

They gazed at her with eyes devoid of interest… as if she were a servant about the place. Jayne paused, wondering how to make friends with them. While they'd been introduced to her in her first days here, she'd not had time to really speak with them. Besides, they and J. D. were usually off running about the island.

As if in understanding, she asked, "How is J. D. this morning?"

The two boys shrugged. Denis, the dark one mumbled, "Nobody tells us anything."

"Perhaps I can learn something and pass it on," she tried again, still trying to be pleasant. "Or maybe find out if you can visit him?"

The boys brightened a bit at that thought. Evidently their guilt over J. D.'s accident was tearing them apart inside.

"Perhaps a word to Phillip?" she suggested with a smile.

The boys nodded.

Jayne left them and entered the house, quickly finding Phillip's study. The Greek was busy at his computer and for a moment, Jayne thought he seemed far more home at it than with a sword in his hand. She'd been told of his skills, but he just seemed like a pleasant and rather sedentary man to her. He glanced up at her. "Did we have meeting on for this morning?"

Jayne shook her head. "No… I was asking the boys about J. D. and they seemed awfully upset that they hadn't seen him and didn't know how he was."

"J. D.'s in the hospital for observation. They know that. They're not children," he said scratching at his beard absently.

"But they _are_ children," Jayne insisted. "They may have centuries of memories, but their abilities to hand certain things… especially emotionally might still be those of children. They need to be reassured."

Phillip leaned back comfortably in his chair. "What do you propose?" He seemed almost amused.

Jayne thought quickly… _What was she proposing?_ She was the newcomer here. She was the mortal… the Watcher. "Perhaps they just need to see him," she finally said. "When you're a child, you can be told that a friend or loved one is all right… but sometimes you just have to see him." She thought of her own fears when her father was injured on the job so many years ago. No matter what her mother or grandmother had told her… she had been terrified that she would never see him again.

Phillip nodded. "Perhaps you're right. Let me call the hospital first to be certain that J. D.'s awake and can have visitors. He reached for the telephone.

Jayne let out a deep breath. She was going to fit in here… she just knew it.

-----

Shortly later, Jayne returned to the terrace. "He's awake and having lunch according to the nurse."

The two boys crowded about her.

"Can we see him?" Denis asked hopefully.

"I think so," Jayne laughed. "The nurse said she'd speak with Dr. Powers and that one of them would let us know… let Phillip know," she added lamely.

Still the two immortals seemed relieved and satisfied with her information.

"While we're waiting… perhaps we could talk?" Jayne figured that she might as well get to know the boys a bit better. "We really haven't had a chance."

Chou laughed merrily. "Have you read Douglas' files?"

Jayne blushed. "Well… not all of them. I just thought it would be a good way for us to get to know one another."

Chou hit Denis' arm and shrugged. With mischievous glee the two settled back to tell some tall tales to the young woman. It would be a fun way to spend the time until they were allowed to see J. D.

-----


	41. Chapter Forty

**Chapter Forty  
****Paris to London:**

As Methos pulled into traffic, Robert remained quiet and solemn by his side. "I like your friends," Robert finally said. "For Watchers… they were like real people… no staring… no asking 'just what was it like during the French Revolution' and all that stuff." He chuckled and slid down, his eyes half-opened and a secretive smile playing over his lips.

Methos figured he was communing emotionally with Gina, exploring their link to one another. He recalled doing much the same as his with Eleanor had grown. So far the separation was working. Likely it would get stronger and then they would be eager to get back together… where they would have time to deal with all the idle thoughts… and stray comments that flitted through each other's minds. He felt the feather brush of Eleanor as she awakened. It tickled across his mind and was gone… just the sense that she was there and aware of his thinking of her. Twenty years had given them this independence to be balanced with their more intimate moments when they were totally immersed in one another. He hoped Gina and Robert would find this same level and live to see their four hundredth anniversary. Perhaps this would work out after all. It certainly would prove that the unity was for all of them… not a select few.

His main worry was MacLeod, and by extension Kate Devaney and Alistair Craille. Unless they were together and fully cognizant of everything that could happen, events would spiral out of control. He trusted that MacLeod was alive and knew this, but he wanted to be certain. He'd toyed last night after learning everything from Joe about contacting Amanda to confirm what he already was so certain of. But he'd decided against it for the moment. He'd check with her later today and see if she'd heard from MacLeod. As to the matter in Washington about Sarah Manning and the break-in at his home there, he would leave that to Burt Meyers' capable hands. All his presence there would do, would be to reveal his identity to Watchers not now in the know. Yes… most knew he was an immortal. His identity as Adam Pierson was on the books… but Amy Zoll had secured his identity as Methos under a need to know basis… and Joe's daughter had done the same when she'd taken over his files.

He had contacted his caretaker at the farm and learned that he'd found the break-in and had called the security number to report it. The security number was that of one of Methos' former field Watchers, who'd contacted Amy Meyers with the information and had quietly investigated. Methos and the caretaker had chatted a bit on the phone about the farm, the horses, and the broken frame, and he'd asked "Mr. Pierson" when he thought he'd be home. Methos had told him he wasn't certain… but that he'd acted correctly. "If anything else happens, contact the security people again," he'd told him and hung up shortly after that.

Craille had three estates in Great Britain… one in London, one in Manchester, and one in Glasgow. Since he was English to begin with, that wasn't surprising. Joe had offered to send Watchers to check the places out, but Methos had told him not to.

"Let me check on this. If I find MacLeod, I'll make certain he calls you." He didn't want the Watchers anywhere near Kate and Alistair until he'd checked the situation out. If he was wrong… then hell yes the Watchers could take care of them. But if he was right… he needed to get the couple and hopefully MacLeod as well… someplace safe and secure. They would need to vanish for a while. MacLeod had evidently known this when he'd managed to lose the Watchers in Paris. But had he managed to follow through on everything? Somehow Methos didn't think so.

Once again… he mentally cursed at MacLeod. He chuckled then, realizing that his discomfiture about things had more to do with how his personal plans were being impinged and not about what had happened. Most of the immortals who knew some of what was happening on Niebos looked to MacLeod and followed his lead. Methos was perfectly happy to remain in the background and utilize his Adam Pierson persona to protect both himself, and his family. He still feared what might happen if it became generally known who he was… how old he was.

Mentally he ticked off the immortals who did know… MacLeod, Amanda, Eleanor, Phillip, Greg Powers, John Kirin, Alisaunne, Grace and Cassandra. As far as he knew… they were the only ones who knew precisely that he was Methos. He smiled. They'd fudged his identity with the small ones. They might suspect… but they didn't know. The adults all called him Adam in their presence. There was, however, one more… and he trusted him… Derrick. He smiled at the thought of the young man whose first death and awakening as immortal had begun this adventure. He'd asked Amy if anything else had shown up about an unknown immortal, but there hadn't been anything that had crossed her desk. But Derrick was out there someplace… and he still hoped he could find him somehow… for Eleanor. But right now… there were no leads. It was best to concentrate on what he could do… swiftly… and then go home.

He hated not being there for J. D. when he awakened. Methos made a solemn vow to himself to spend more time with the boy. He feared telling him too much about immortals… but he didn't want to lie to him. He still needed to discover how to protect the children… and what purpose they might serve in the future… and whether they could be immortal without being a part of the game.

While he was deep in thought… the miles piled up and soon they'd descended to the Chunnel. The interspersed lights zoomed by as they traveled swiftly. Neither man talked, both seemed lost in thought and Methos actually found, at one point, that he was counting the lights as he sped past them.

Arising from the darkness of the Chunnel into the gray light of day once more was a relief from the numbing sameness of the tunnel. Both men blinked in the return of daylight and shifted as if awakening from a dream.

"I never did like that thing," Robert mused. "It's too much like being dead and buried."

Methos smiled thinly. "It does have that feel to it doesn't it. I'd never thought of that before."

"When I'm out of it, all I can think of is that the ocean was above me and that at any moment it could have come crashing down."

Nodding sagely, Methos agreed. "We could have flown, but then we'd have had swords to get through customs and renting a car and… I miss the old world sometimes. Don't you?"

"Every day. Although I'd hate to lose the invention of the phonograph. All that lovely music recorded for mortal posterity."

"I can still hear it in my head… the music that adorned the revelries of my youth."

"How old are you Pierson?" Robert suddenly asked, looking at him quizzically.

Methos shrugged. "Old enough to remember Rome," he said lightly. "Old enough to remember Greece." His voice faded away as he fleetingly recalled key events of those times and the mortals and immortals he'd known then. He shook it off. "The first piece of property is on the West End of London." He had to keep his mind on the here and now and find MacLeod and the others. He eased into the proper lane and settled into traffic.

An hour later, he found himself on a sedate London street crowded with old brownstones. For a moment, Methos was transported into the London of the nineteenth century as he stared up at those four and five story buildings all crowded together and towering into the sky. Along the tree-lined streets, nannies in dark cloaks had wheeled the prams of their charges. Now there were people sitting on the front stoops and fanning themselves. They stared at the slowly passing car with suspicion. The neighborhood had changed. Instead of an area where the upper middle-class lived, it had become the provence of immigrants and the lower strata of society.

Teens dressed as punks hung out on corners, smoking and playing raucous music.

"Somehow I don't think we'll find them here," murmured Robert.

"Somehow I think you're right," agreed Methos. "But we need to be certain. He pulled into a parking space opposite the address and both men stared up at the building. "I don't sense anyone," Methos finally said.

"Should we investigate more closely?"

Methos nodded. "I'll go. You watch the car. I'm not entirely certain I trust that last group of kids." He grabbed his sword from where it had been hidden from customs in the back seat and climbed out, adjusting his long coat as he did so. He eyed the closest group of teens warily and then crossed to the townhouse.

He'd just climbed the stoop when the door opened and two scantily clad teen girls emerged, popping gum and chatting in some polyglot of English and German. They eyed him as if he were a side of beef while he eased past them and into the dim hall. He still felt nothing… and now it appeared to him that he wouldn't. The building had been sub-divided. Craille was likely just an absentee landlord. Nevertheless, in the interest of being thorough, he climbed the stairs, pausing on each floor to feel the presence of any immortal. He felt nothing. Not even on the top floor where access was not allowed due to a locked gate across the stairs.

Methos leaned on the gate a moment. Evidently this was more of a last ditch hiding place than one of Craille's premier pieces of property. He might stay here when in London… but this was not a place he frequented. Methos could see dust on the upper floor… and no footprints. Nor had a key recently been used in this lock for it had the appearance of an old and unused one.

He shook the gate menacingly, noting that despite appearances, it was strongly bolted into the wall. "A delay tactic," he murmured softly. He turned and descended the stairs, noting the suspicious looks of the building's residents, some of whom sat in the halls chatting with one another.

He stopped on the third floor to ask about the man who lived "up top." and was told that no one lived there. No one ever had in "twenty-four years" according to one elderly man. Methos thanked him and returned to the car… now surrounded by the young toughs.

"'ey there Mate," said one whose spike of neon green hair and body piercings reminded Methos of Caspian in some ways. "Yu gots to pay rent to park 'ere." He rubbed his fingers together with a wide grin.

"Sorry," Methos murmured, "just leaving." He reached for the door handle, aware that the group had closed in around him.

"We still needs the rent money," the leader taunted. He stuck out his pierced tongue and waggled it in Methos' face.

The ancient immortal sighed and remained very still while the catcalls and taunts rose about him. The easiest thing to do would be to pay them and leave.

Robert slowly climbed out of the passenger side of the car and leaned on the roof, meeting Methos' gaze quizzically as if to say, "_What do you want to do?_"

Methos nodded almost imperceptively and then moved swiftly to snatch the leader's tongue in one fist and yank it towards him.

"First of all… I don't like tongues in my face," he said calmly, noting that blood was easing around his fingers. Then, before the others could react, he kicked out with his left foot and connected with another teen's solar plexus. At the same time, he dragged the leader around and tossed him into three of his mates. By this time, Robert had joined in.

Obviously blades were not needed, nor did either immortal wish to kill these boys, but they needed a lesson… and Death and his erstwhile apprentice could surely provide that. The air was rent with the sounds of swiftly delivered blows, yelps of pain, and the occasional snap of a broken bone. One by one the toughs fell and crawled or ran away leaving only their fearless leader behind… trapped by one of Methos' booted feet on his face.

The immortal leaned over the blubbering tough, whose mouth still ran red with blood. Evidently Methos had pulled a tongue piercing free. "Now then," Methos said calmly, "shall we discuss bullying, extortion, courtesy, meaningful employment?"

The boy's eyes widened in fear. He shook his head.

Robert nudged him with a foot. "Then we're done here. Scoot along home now and behave yourself." The boy looked back and forth between them and then managed to get to his feet and slink away. Robert took a deep breath. "Now that was fun."

Methos glared at him, but the dark, oppressive cloud of Death was easing. "Let's go. They're not here," he snapped.

"You move well," Robert continued pleasantly after both were once more in the car. "Do you give lessons?"

Methos dropped his head on the steering wheel and took several deep cleansing breaths. "Sorry," he finally said once he'd regained control. "It's been a stressful few days and they really ticked me off." He started the ignition.

Robert chuckled. "I could see that. Still…" he looked back over his shoulder through the rear window, "… do you honestly think that will make anything better?"

"It made _me _feel better," Methos replied honestly, and pulled out onto the street. They still had two properties to check out.

-----

**Niebos:**

A wave of uneasiness hovered over Eleanor. She raised her head and blinked away the sleep that had overwhelmed her. Glancing at the clock she noted she'd slept at the desk for several hours. Somewhere in the back of mind she sense Death riding through a barbaric past while once more she clung behind him in the saddle. Methos hadn't had an episode in some time. Perhaps his iron control of who and what he once had been was slipping. Then just as suddenly it faded and was gone.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, and with a resolute smile, rose. She wanted to check on J. D. She hadn't meant to leave him alone so long. The light filtering through the blinds indicated that it was near evening. Eleanor could hear movement in the corridor as she opened the door.

"Oh! You're awake!" Greg smiled up at her. "I was just about to wake you myself."

"Yeah! I guess I was more tired than I thought I was."

"J. D.'s fine… by the way. He's sitting up and anxious to get out of here. His appetite is back to normal," Greg added with a chuckle.

"His arm?"

"Doesn't pain him. That's normal… although he seems to be further along in the process than normal."

Eleanor looked at him thoughtfully. "It's the first time he was ever seriously hurt. Considering what Grace told us last night… do you suppose it's important?"

Greg nodded. "He might have some latent healing ability that we as pre-immortals did not." He shrugged. "I'm not in favor of testing this out further though."

Eleanor nodded, laughing as she did so. "Nor am I! One crisis per child's lifetime is quite enough!" She sighed and glanced up the hall, noting Kenny's lingering presence in the shadows. "What's he doing here?"

Greg cleared his throat. "I found him in J. D.'s room earlier. The two of them were getting acquainted."

"Well there goes one hope… that we could keep the children from him," Eleanor added soberly.

"He wants out of here too. There's nothing physically wrong with him."

Eleanor rubbed her cheeks, letting the cool feel of her hands help root her in the here and now. "Tell him we'll see about it tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'm off to see my son." She gave Greg a smile of encouragement and was rewarded with a reassuring clasp of her arm.

"I'll keep an eye on him. I told Grace to stay away today. I can handle everything. And you… see your son and then get something to eat. You look terrible." He winked.

Eleanor laughed and brushed at the bloody splotches still on her. "I likely do. Call me if you need me!" She waved him off and sauntered down the corridor to J. D.'s room. She found him sitting up in the bed talking to Chou and Denis.

The two immortals lowered their eyes when they saw her and apologized for what had happened.

"It was an accident," Eleanor assured them. "Right?" All three boys nodded fervently. "Then nothing more need be said."

"Can I get out of here Mom?" J. D. pleaded. "I feel fine."

"Maybe tomorrow," Eleanor assured him and brushed his dark hair from his eyes and kissed him. "I just want you to take it easy and rest today."

"Awww… Mom!" J. D. wiped at his forehead. He definitely was feeling better and not wanting to be seen as being babied by his mother… at least not in front of his friends.

Eleanor got the message. She stepped back and bowed slightly. "Yes your majesty." she winked at him and then let out a deep breath. "I'm going to the villa to check on Marianna , get a bath, and something to eat. Greg's down the hall if you need anything." She focused on the two immortals. "And you will be certain that he stays put… right?"

Chou nodded enthusiastically while Denis looked at her fearfully. She laughed and left. She'd check with Phillip and see if he'd discovered exactly what had happened.

-----


	42. Chapter FortyOne

**Chapter Forty-One  
****Roebuck Bay, Australia:**

By mid-morning, Derrick had begun the repairs and replacements of worn items. By mid-afternoon, he had sent Wingate to see about supplies and had sent David to see about hiring a local crew to help check the hull. By dusk, he glanced around thoughtfully as if something were wrong.

"Has anyone seen Amber?" he finally asked. He'd assumed earlier that she'd gone sightseeing with Michelle, but the young immortal had returned from her shopping trip and he'd overheard that Amber hadn't gone with her.

Everyone looked around and shrugged. Derrick strode to the rail and stared across the marina. "I'm going to find her," he finally said as he slapped a hand onto the railing. He turned and went below to get his sword and a coat. He had a bad feeling about what had happened.

He was slipping the coat on and adjusting his sword when Cassandra knocked lightly at the open cabin door. She smiled. "May I come in?"

"Sure but I'm not staying," Derrick replied. He stepped toward the door and she blocked his way, her hands on his chest.

"Please… we need to talk."

"Later," Derrick murmured and pushed her hands off of him, "after I've found Amber."

"_We need to talk now_," Cassandra repeated with an inflection that froze Derrick's feet to the cabin floor. The air seemed thick and hard to breathe. He felt hot… and a little dizzy. He opened his mouth to reply… but nothing came out. "_That's it_," she continued smoothly, her voice still reverberating on his senses, "_you must stay and listen to what I have to say_." She kicked the cabin door shut. She lifted a hand behind her to the bolt and shot it so that the door was locked.

Derrick weaved slightly. He shook his head to clear it, and felt her hands on his face. He blinked several times, trying to clear his thoughts and his vision.

"_I'm not your enemy. You must not go after her_."

"I have to find her. I can't do this without her," Derrick insisted, uncertain if the words were actually spoken aloud or only in his thoughts. A great lethargy was descending on him ever more heavily with each word Cassandra spoke.

She laid her hands on his chest and smiled at him. "_You have me now_." She lifted her lips to his mouth and brushed them across his lips and nose. He shuddered. His mind felt wrapped in cotton as if he were sinking swiftly into a morass from which he'd never arise. Cassandra's hands moved up around his neck and pulled his face to hers. She kissed him… and continued kissing him while she stepped forward, forcing him to step backward. Five steps later, his legs were against the bunk. "_Make love to me_," she whispered between kisses. Her hands slipped back to his chest and slid his coat off of his un-protesting shoulders and down his arms. "_Make love to me now_," she insisted. She confidently unbuckled his belt.

Derrick couldn't move. He felt one of her hands slip inside his jeans and felt his response. "No!" he screamed mentally. Her heady scent of musk filled his nostrils and seemed to add to his growing need . He moaned as she caressed him. He felt like he was paralyzed.

Cassandra pushed him down on the bunk and then stepped back to remove her own gown. She wore nothing under it. As it fell to the floor, she kicked it away with a bare foot and closed in on him once more. She pushed him back on the bunk and straddled him, letting her long mane of hair trail on his chest. Her hands moved over him… removing his shirt and easing his jeans down. Then she lay above him, kissing him insistently.

Derrick groaned… some inner voice yelling that he needed to get out of here… that he had other concerns. But biology, or her voice, or her musky smell, or maybe all of the above combined so that responding to her advance was all that he could think of. He grabbed her to him as he turned her over and held her hands down. Her eyes widened and then she relaxed as he began to kiss her. He could feel her move beneath him and nothing in the world seemed as important. He released her hands, and they wrapped around his back, even as her legs now wrapped about his hips. He wanted her… and he would have her… now. The little voice in his mind was drowned out by the urgent sounds the two of them were now making.

-----

It was dark when he awoke. The yacht rocked easily in the changing tide. He knew his ship well enough to know her every sound. Derrick felt like he had when he'd first reawakened after his death. Everything seemed so clear. Every sound was crisp and new. Every shadow in the dark cabin, seemed sharp. Every scent he smelled filled him with longing.

He turned to the woman balled up and sleeping beside him and smiled. Amber was good for him. She kept him rooted in this life. He stretched a hand out to caress her bare back. She arched her back at his touch, rolled over and leaned over him with a smile, her dark hair falling on him, her musky scent enveloping him again.

"_Go to sleep Derrick_," she said.

He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

-----

Daylight.

Derrick stared blankly at the shaft of daylight from the porthole. He could see dust mites rising. He sucked in a deep breath, held it… then let it out with a loud whistling sound. Nothing seemed real. Had he died? Where was he? What was happening? He reached out to the other side of the bunk… empty.

He made a fist in the bedclothes as feelings of bereavement and loneliness crept over him. _She'd left him. _As the cabin door opened and Cassandra entered, she flashed him a smile and locked the door.

"No," Derrick said as he sat up. "I have things to do." What things he couldn't recall… but he was certain they were important.

Cassandra dropped her caftan and climbed in next to him. "_Shhh. It can wait_." She nuzzled his neck, her tongue tickling it greedily while she hummed. Her humming made him think of hot summer days and fields of tall grass filled with wildflowers and bees. He let out a deep breath and kissed her as he pulled her close.

Later he stretched next to her, playing with her hair. He was drenched in sweat… as was she. The cabin smelled musky like sweat and sex. Underneath it all he could smell the salt air of the ocean. He closed his eyes and drifted for a moment on the feel of the ocean rocking the boat.

He turned to gaze at Cassandra's face, noting that despite seeming very pleased and relaxed… she wanted something… needed something… something more… something he doubted even she knew that she needed. His mind coalesced around that thought as he stared at her. Despite the warm, fuzzy feeling of the day, this thought felt cold and jagged. Some old memory within him recognized that thought and embraced it as the way life had been. He hadn't been troubled by old memory… Darius' memories… for a long time. But this thought was breaking through his calm acceptance of what was… insisting on another course of action.

He leaned on one elbow as a grim sneer settled on his mouth. He moved her dark hair aside and stared at her nude perfection. He rolled onto her, kicking her legs apart as he held her hands above her head with one hand. Her eyes snapped open. She started to speak as his other hand grasped her throat. "Not a word. Not a sound." She struggled, only exciting him more. She was his conquest… and rape was what she most needed.

-----

When he was finished with her… he strangled her and then dressed. After stumbling to the deck, he gazed around at the others.

"Look who's decided to come up for air," snorted Caspar bitterly.

Even David shook his head. "Oh Captain, my Captain," he quoted and spit at the deck.

Derrick shook his head, trying to find his place in the here and now. He rushed to the rail. They were still in Roebuck Bay. They hadn't left. He grabbed Masahiro. "How long?"

"Two days," his teacher said simply.

"Amber?"

Masahiro shook his head.

"I have to find her."

Caspar snorted as he flicked a cigarette into the water. "Big man. You've got to have them all. Who's next? Michelle?"

Derrick shook his head, holding it and bent over as he turned with a strangled cry. "No! She did something!"

Masahiro stepped to his side and clasped his shoulders. "Concentrate."

Derrick met his even gaze and nodded. "Somebody get the bike out of the hold, now. I have to get out of here."

Burke and David took off. Derrick turned to Michelle. "Do you have any idea where she went?"

Michelle shook her head. "We talked a little the other night about going to Ayers… but I don't know."

Derrick stared at the shore. It was a thought. He could scout out the town and then work his way in that direction. Amber was likely on foot. Surely he could find her. A movement at the gangway caused him to turn sharply. Cassandra stood there, once more in the caftan, one hand at her throat.

Derrick growled as he grabbed her by the throat once more. "Not a word! Do you hear me? Not one damned word!"

Cassandra clutched at his fist. Her eyes bugged out slightly and tears formed at the corners. She gasped.

Caspar tried to pull him free. Derrick threw him off.

"She said something. It was like a drug." Suddenly he thrust her into Caspar's arms. "Hold her!" He did so. Cassandra struggled and opened her mouth.

Derrick held out a hand and snapped his fingers. "Knife!" Masahiro laid his in Derrick's palm. Derrick hefted it with a grim smile at Cassandra's obvious terror then raised it to her throat. He let the tip pierce her skin and noted the slight bleeding. "Not a word," he repeated softly. "If I hear a single word that is other than normal and an answer to my question… I will rob you of the ability to ever speak again. Do you understand?"

Cassandra nodded, barely moving because of the knife.

"What did you tell Amber?"

"The truth."

Derrick shook his head. "What truth?"

"That if she was with you… you would die."

Derrick roared and turned, almost throwing the knife. Instead he laid it against her throat again. "Your truth. The future you see is not necessarily what will be."

"Yes," she said with tears. "I see many possibilities. In all the ones where you died… she was there. I only wanted to save you. She left by her own choice."

The bike was lifted onto the deck from the cargo hold. Derrick stood back thoughtfully. He handed the knife to Masahiro. "She is not to talk. No one is to be alone with her. Keep her here until I return." He headed for the jet cycle, checking it over and making certain everything was ready to go. He initiated the start-up system, glancing up when Michelle handed him a package. "Food. You haven't eaten in two days." Derrick thanked her and stuffed it into one of the compartments.

"I'll find her," he said with a smile and glanced back darkly at Cassandra as he adjusted his helmet. "Watch her. And don't let her speak."

"_Hai_ Derrick-_sama_," Masahiro said with a deferential bow. Derrick felt that somehow they'd changed positions if even Hikaru Masahiro was obeying him. Was it something of the old Darius? The one who'd led his armies across the face of the world, raping and pillaging? Did something of that old immortal that had helped him break free of Cassandra's spell still linger about him in the way he spoke? The way he moved? Derrick hit the accelerator and raced purposely down the gangway and across the marina in an attempt to outrun both his ghosts… and his destiny.

-----

**Paris:**

Fog was everywhere. In the pre-dawn light, it slid among the tombstones and over the marble angels. It pooled in thick white cotton puffs in hollows and made the world white and wet.

Duncan shouldered the bag of tools and kept looking. He no longer needed the flashlight, and he was mainly interested in the aboveground crypts. It made no sense for to Darius to have buried the artifacts in the ground. But nothing about this made sense to him.

He couldn't stop now though. He was too close to finding them. Not even Kate and their unborn child held more need for him at this moment. He had to find the artifacts! If anything happened to him before he did so… the others would never find them. He was certain of it. He had to find the crypt of Charles le Martin, find the artifacts, and ship them to Niebos. Once that was done… he was free to continue his search. "Forgive me Kate," he whispered to the swirling pools of morning fog. "But this might mean a future for all of us… not just you… and the child." Somehow, if anything happened to her, he didn't think Kate would understand. Duncan just wished he trusted Alistair to do what would be necessary.

He tripped over what he assumed was an exposed tree root, caught his balance and stopped still on the path. _Les Innocents _would open to the public in a few hours. He wanted to be gone by then. He'd started late last night and had used a flashlight and had covered about a third of the cemetery. He had perhaps another hour… two at the most before he'd have to leave and come back tonight.

Turning, he saw a crypt nestled among some overgrown bushes. He pushed his way through them and smiled. Charles le Martin was carved above the iron door. Duncan slipped the pack off of his shoulder and let it drop to the ground. He pushed and pulled at the doors. Nothing budged.

He rummaged through the tools and came up with a crowbar that he wedged into the seam and pushed. He gritted his teeth and pulled with all his might. Either way… nothing gave. Whatever locking system was on these doors, it was a strong one. He dropped the crowbar and made a trip around the small stone crypt. It was a small family one, likely holding no more than ten coffins. A small grate was in the gable above the door… but it was too small for entry.

Duncan crouched thoughtfully before the door and shown the flashlight over it. As the light flashed over some shadows he paused and gazed at them thoughtfully. He clicked the flash off as he thoughtfully drew the two chess pieces from his pocket. _Could it be so easy?_ He'd remarked earlier on their unusual size and weight. He hefted them in his hands and then stood before the locked door. He reached out with his left hand and inserted the knight in one indentation. He inserted the bishop in the other. He pushed. Nothing happened.

Duncan closed his eyes, searching for another memory… anything that would help. But came up with nothing. He was on his own. Firmly he tried to turn the figures to the left and then to the right. Nothing happened. He wanted to shout curses into the air. _This shouldn't be this hard!_

"We each go our own way Duncan," he thought he heard Darius say. For a moment he saw the priest in the fog. He spread his arms. "_Hopefully… whatever path we take will lead us to the same conclusions. There is no right or left path. There is only the one we travel_." The spectre faded. Duncan grasped both pieces and turned them in opposite directions at the same time. This time… he felt as well as heard something groan and click on the far side of the doors. They shuddered and popped slightly.

Duncan smiled and moved his hand to the latch, lifted it again and pulled the door open. The air within was a bit stale… but held no remnant of death or moldering. He grabbed the flashlight and entered the stone crypt. As expected there were eight metal vaults, four stacked on shelves on each side… and one in the middle. He stood over the middle one and felt around the edges of it with his fingers. He neither saw nor felt any locking device. _Was that it? Was that all that was needed?_

He set the flashlight down and gripped the metal lid… groaning as he expended all of his immortal strength in attempting to lift it. "Aaarrrrggghhh!" he screamed as he pulled. But nothing budged. Duncan leaned on the metal vault wearily. With exasperation he suddenly yelled aloud, "Why Darius? Why bring me here and then not give me the final key? What else is there?" His voice echoed back at him. He listened to it die away and then stood straighter thoughtfully. Again he lifted his voice. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod!" As his voice died away, he heard a soft _whir _and then a _click_ as the metal top of the vault shifted. He grasped it and moved it further aside.

Inside were stone tablets, scrolls, small funerary statues and other objects that he recognized from the computer disk. Reverently he touched them and then looked around at the other vaults. They must all contain some of the items. Duncan shook his head, and chuckled. How was he going to ship all of this to Niebos? And yet… to Niebos it needed to go. Only there could they spread everything out and examine it.

He pulled the vault shut and then stepped out of the crypt into the dispersing fog. After closing and re-locking the doors and pocketing the chess pieces, he gathered his bag and tools, and left the cemetery. He had some calls to make.

-----


	43. Chapter FortyTwo

**Chapter Forty-Two  
****Washington, D.C.:**

Silently, Burt Meyers held up his hand and counted with his fingers. "_Three… two… one!_" Then he pointed at the closed apartment door. Their surveillance had indicated that Hinkle, or Malone, or whatever his name was… was here. As to Sarah… they had no clue.

Using the small battering ram… Ryan and Pete Wylie, from the D.C. retrieval squad, hit the door soundly and it opened. The team rushed in, surprising their quarry and bringing him swiftly to the floor. Ryan began to search the apartment for signs of Sarah. Cecile was on her phonecard. "We got him," she was saying as another group of armored officers arrived.

Suddenly both groups stood with weapons trained on the other. The leader of the other group looked at them curiously. Then he saw Cecile. His gaze turned into a glare as he stepped toward her. His men shifted their weapons to keep them trained on the Burt's group. "What are you people doing here?" Matthew McCormick asked her pointedly.

Cecile glanced at Burt and at Matthew's men. "We found a body."

Burt holstered his weapon and stepped forward. "We're here for the same reason Mr. McCormick. We were both following the trail of a serial killer."

McCormick looked at them all evenly and then turned to his squad. "Stand down men and wait outside."

"But it's our collar and our jurisdiction," one of them complained. "Who _are_ these guys? Feds?"

"A group I've had dealings with before," McCormick explained. "Outside now." His men left and he closed the door. He crossed to the prisoner and eyed him carefully, then he turned to Burt. "So why were you interested in him?"

"One of you was kidnapped. Our surveillance saw a body disposed and we collected it." Burt was choosing his words carefully. There was no reason to let their prisoner know what they were talking about. Burt glanced at him and smiled. "He's not one of you?"

McCormick shook his head. He, too, holstered his weapon.

Cecile spoke up. "We aren't your enemy. We are trying to save one of you."

McCormick looked back at her. "Right… I recall previous dealings with your group."

"That wasn't _us_! It was a splinter group!" she insisted, but she could sense he wasn't listening.

Ryan re-entered the room. "No sign of Sarah." He gazed at their prisoner thoughtfully. "That's not him."

Everyone turned. "What do you mean it's not him?" both Burt and McCormick asked.

"I mean," Ryan replied. "That's not the man I saw drive off in the car and dispose of the body parts."

The room was abuzz with conversations, questions, and protestations. Burt held up a hand. "The evidence led us here."

"Our investigation did as well," McCormick added.

"I tell you… this isn't the man I saw disposing of that body!" Ryan insisted. Then he turned and grabbed their prisoner by his shirt. "Where is she? Who has her?

The man shook his head. "I got nothin' to say."

McCormick smiled grimly. "But I've still got enough to put you away… maybe even the needle unless…" His voice drifted off.

The man licked his lips nervously and looked back and forth between McCormick, Burt, and Ryan. "Unless what?"

"Tell us what you know about that film studio. Who runs it? What goes on there?" McCormick replied.

Burt snapped his fingers and withdrew a photograph of Sarah from a file Cecile held. "And tell us what you know about this woman?" he asked him.

The man's eyes widened. He tried to squirm loose and looked about fearfully.

McCormick snatched the photo. "Sarah," he said softly.

"You know her?" Cecile asked.

McCormick nodded. "Not well. Not my type, really. But yeah… I know her." He turned to their prisoner, holding up the photograph. "You want to live? Where is she?"

The man struggled. Finally, he seemed to accept the situation. "She's dead," he said. "The owner hired me to finish off the ladies in the snuff films so his actors weren't involved. I did this one with a sword."

"Noooooo!" moaned Ryan.

McCormick leaned in closely to his face. "How exactly did you kill her?"

Cowering before McCormick he glanced at him, as if seeking an opening… something that would save his life. "I rammed a sword through her chest. I had specific orders. He then dismissed me, indicating he'd deal with the body."

McCormick smiled as if he were the man's friend. "And his name?"

The man shrugged. "Malone. He let me have this place, an expense account, and a car to drive that was his. Sometimes he asked for it back."

"Then you're not Malone?" Burt asked. He was flipping through the information they'd gathered showing this man's face on the driver's license. He held it up.

"Naw… he musta changed the records. Name's Carl Reynolds."

McCormick ran a hand through his closely cropped brown hair and turned toward Burt. "He's guilty of some of the killings… but not all I'd warrant."

"A red herring? Someone the police would blame?" Burt nodded.

Ryan grabbed Reynolds again. "Are you sure you don't know anything else? His name?"

Reynolds shook his head… then he seemed to recall something. "It might be nothing but just before I killed the bitch… she called a name… Kingsley I think."

McCormick sped around. "Martin Kingsley?"

"Just Kingsley I think. I had no idea who she was talking about."

McCormick closed his eyes. "It's him… it has to be him."

"What do we do now?" Burt asked.

McCormick made his decision and nodded. "I take Mr. Reynolds in for murder. You people go back to your offices. I'll be in touch.

"But Sarah…" began Ryan.

McCormick softened slightly. "As soon as I get this guy squared away… okay?" He grabbed Reynolds' arm and headed out of the apartment. Burt could hear the D.C. squad giving high-fives and congratulating their commander for getting "their" prisoner away from the "Feds." Evidently, McCormick would let them think that.

"Stand down people and let's get back. We got a new name… and I got a feeling this one _is _in our records."

He was… but only the barest account of him as a young immortal. Like all of them, he was a foundling, born sometime during the French and Indian War. He'd evidently been a settler killed by Indians, and had been found and first trained by the trapper Luke Monroe. They'd parted company pretty quickly… and the Watcher on Monroe only had time to make the notation about Kingsley's existence, before leaving for points further west. Monroe had ended up being killed by the next immortal he'd tried to help… John Durgan.

"He slipped through the cracks," Cecile was telling Burt when the elevator arrived and opened, discharging Matt McCormick several hours later. He'd changed back into civvies from his uniform and body armor. A file folder was clasped in his hands.

McCormick looked about uncomfortably as if he'd entered the lion's den unarmed. Cecile stepped up to him.

"It'll be fine… you'll see. Most of us just want to record your lives… not control or interfere."

McCormick snorted and shook his head. "But you are interfering. You're interfering in the life of Martin Kingsley and his penchant for torture and murder."

Burt leaned back against a nearby desk and crossed his arms. "What do you know?"

McCormick nodded. "I was on the police force in New Orleans," he began, his voice shifting into a Southern drawl. "About 1923 there was a wave of murders in the city. Eight women's bodies turned up over the course of three years… all in pieces. I couldn't tell if they were mortal or immortal… they were prostitutes mainly. Though one was a girl in service. She had family who identified her remains."

"And Kingsley?"

McCormick smiled. "Cutting to the chase?"

"We don't have a lot of time."

"He was a wealthy local businessman. I met him briefly at a social function that I chanced to attend with my wife. We saw each other across the room. He raised his glass and toasted me. We did not speak. In the following months, I checked him out as he no doubt checked me out. I never connected him to the murders. And we had no reason to cross blades."

"Can you give us a good sketch of what he looks like?" Burt gestured toward a pad of paper.

"Better than that," McCormick smiled and opened the file he carried. "I believe I have a photograph of him from the newspaper of that time." He pulled the yellowed and crumbling newsprint out and carefully handed it over to Burt.

He nodded. "Get that copied and cross-referenced," he said handing it off to Cecile.

By morning, they'd finally tracked down an obscure lease arrangement which had at one time listed a Martin Kingsley. This time, McCormick was joining the party. "You will leave him to me and the rules of the game. Is that clear? Get Miss Manning out of there if she still lives and leave the rest to me."

Burt nodded. "I quite agree. We're not in this to kill you people. Never again."

Around him the others repeated the phrase. They headed for the transport vehicles and the high-rise condo in the expensive downtown area. Before going in, Mccormick called his wife and told he loved her… then the Watcher group headed into the building. Mccormick held back as they headed to the top floor. He didn't want Kingsley to feel him until they were ready. He waited down the hall until the rest of the group was in position. Then he strode toward the door even as they deployed the battering ram. He felt nothing.

The battering ram slammed into the door… bursting it open. They entered and spread out.

"He's not here," McCormick said looking around the sparsely decorated main room. Ryan yelled from the bedroom. "He may have kept her in here."

McCormick glanced into the spotless white room and looked it over quickly, "It doesn't make sense. What makes you think he kept her here?"

Their conversation was interrupted as they heard from behind them. "Dear God in heaven!"

They'd found the torture room… and had noted the blood-spattered walls. As clean as the bedroom was… this place… with its rack, shackles, manacles, and instruments of torture and dismemberment, was horribly dirty and smelled of blood and decay.

Pete Wylie turned and lost it in the nearest trashcan. And he wasn't the only one.

McCormick and Burt took the room in, in a glance. "I want the blood crossed and typed," Burt said. McCormick nodded his agreement.

Cecile knelt by one spatter. "This is fairly fresh." She pointed so that the team would know to put a rush on this one. Rising she strode calmly from the room and pulling on latex gloves, began checking the cabinets and drawers. "No food but lots of cleaning supplies. I'd say our boy liked to keep all signs of his little hobby in there. Out here… perfectly normal."

Ryan dropped into a chair at the table by the closed drapes and sobbed. The rest were somber and silent except to call attention to anything they found.

"Knife gouge in the table."

"Bathtub looks recently used. Still wet."

Burt rubbed his forehead. He tried to put himself in Kingsley's place. Did he know they were after him? Did he know they'd picked up Reynolds earlier? What would he do if he knew? "Put someone on the airports and check the surveillance footage. We might get lucky," he snapped. He looked at the team gathering evidence in the windowless room. "Damn," he finally said and left. His job was to find this guy… not clean up after him.

McCormick caught up with him. "Look. I want in on this. More than just here in D.C. He's moved on… I feel it."

"Some immortal sense?" Burt asked.

"Cop sense," McCormick replied. "If my fears are correct… he's been doing this for years. He just keeps moving on when the heat gets to be too much. He buries who and what he is under so many layers that he moves in polite society unscathed while he indulges in the worst behavior."

Burt nodded. "Fine by me. I'd prefer to have an immortal working with us. We'll find him and leave him to you."

"Somehow I think even Duncan MacLeod would agree with this course of action."

"That's right," Burt replied as they stepped out into fresh air. "You know Mac."

"Friend of yours?"

"Close friend of the family, actually," Burt said with a smile. "My father-in-law is his Watcher."

McCormick glanced around at the passing traffic. "Maybe there's hope for you Watchers after all. That fellow Coltraine seems quite broken up by what's happened."

"He was Sarah Manning's Watcher. How did you know her?"

McCormick laughed. "Oh… I was not always married. Between wives and lives one time… we had… an encounter. She most definitely had strange appetites. I'd say your boy had one too."

"Think so?" Burt looked back up at the high-rise windows. "That would certainly explain some things."

"Now understand," McCormick warned. "I still blame you people for my Watcher's murder… and the murder of her husband and children."

Burt sighed. "Yeah. We punished those who did it. They got a better deal than she and her family got. Not one of our shining moments."

Cecile rushed out. "We caught a break. He was seen at Dulles… International flight."

"To where?" Burt demanded.

"Rome."

The two men looked at one another and nodded. "Get me two seats on the next flight to Rome."

"Three," replied Cecile. "I'm your Watcher, Matt."

The men nodded.

"Four seats."

They looked up to see Ryan on the steps. "I want to see him get his. I owe that to Sarah."

Burt sighed. "Four seats then… to Rome. And warn the Rome bureau to be on the lookout for him."

Cecile made the call.

-----

First class was nearly empty. Sarah remained in her seat, her hands folded sedately in her lap. She hated the dress he'd made her wear… something floral and with ruffles. He'd warned her that he could take her throat out with a single move… even bare-handed he could do that if she said anything to anyone… or made a wrong move.

"I'm taking you with me. If I get Gerard… then you will be free to go," he'd told her. She didn't believe him… but neither did she want her throat ripped out. And he _would_ do it too. His torture of her had been complete. To avoid pain… she would do exactly as he said.

"Yor missus looks a mite airsick," the man across the aisle said, lifting his glass of bourbon in a salute.

"She's not accustomed to travel," Kingsley replied. He slipped one hand into hers. Sarah managed not to flinch. He wouldn't like her flinching. She didn't move at all. He patted her leg and squeezed it. "Second honeymoon. We're gonna enjoy ourselves… aren't we dear?"

Sarah nodded… afraid to say anything.

He squeezed her leg harder. "Aren't we my dear," he said more slowly.

"Yes. Second honeymoon," she replied to the prompt this time. His grip on her leg eased and he patted it again. She smiled at the man across the aisle.

"Get some sleep," Kingsley ordered.

"Yes. Sleep," she murmured in reply and obediently closed her eyes, hoping to find peace and safety in the blankness of her dreams.

-----


	44. Chapter FortyThree

**Chapter Forty-Three  
****Florence:**

The jangle of the telephone interrupted the story she was regaling Gina with about the time she and Rebecca had decided to paint these rooms themselves just after the second World War. The villa had been used by occupying German forces, and Rebecca had wanted a clean slate. "Something bright and cheerful… to remind me of life," her teacher had laughed. They'd settled on yellow with blue woodwork to set off the antique marble and tile of the room. "When Duncan and I were redoing the place a few years ago… I still wanted the rooms to reflect her exquisite taste." Waving a hand cheerily, she indicated that Gina should continue the tour.

"_Pronto_," Amanda laughed as she answered the phone.

"Amanda."

Amanda sobered. "Duncan? Where are you? I've been frantic!"

There was a pause. "I lost my phonecard. I've been out of the loop. How are Robert and Gina?"

"Adam has Robert with him. I'm in Florence with Gina."

"Duncan laughed. "So I gather. I had assumed I'd just leave a message on the machine for you. But since you're there… you can do something for me."

"What?" she asked. Her lower lip jutted out in a small pout. Catching sight of that in her reflection in a mirror, she turned and managed to remove all trace of it. She wouldn't pout. She wouldn't.

"I've found the artifacts."

"Wait… the artifacts? I thought you were looking for…" she looked around and then whispered into the phone, "… Kate."

He laughed. "I still am… but I realized something… stopped by Waterloo and finally solved the clue."

"Duncan that's wonderful."

"I've made arrangements to ship everything to Phillip on Niebos. Can you let him know? I don't want anything to happen to them."

"Aren't you coming with them?"

Duncan paused. "No… I still have to find Kate." She could hear him sigh.

"Joe's worried. So is Adam. I think he and Robert went looking for you after we left."

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?"

"Of course not!" Amanda was hurt that he would think that of her. "You asked me to keep it a secret until you could get them settled. So I am!"

"Listen. I'll call Joe and if I run into Methos, I'll tell him. If he calls… tell him I'm fine."

"Why would he think otherwise?"

"I was challenged."

"Who?"

"No one important. But if he's concerned… tell him I'm fine."

"Duncan,' she said quietly, noting that Gina had returned and was looking at her quizzically. "I'm worried."

He laughed. "Amanda I'm over four hundred years old. I know how to handle myself. Why is this different from any other time we were apart?"

"It isn't," Amanda admitted. "And for the record… I worried then too!"

"Well don't. And since you're there… you can do something for me."

"Anything."

"Take the computer game and the books and other clues to Phillip. He may need them."

"I don't like the sound of this," Amanda said suddenly, feeling uneasy.

"It's nothing… it's just that I want everything to be there together. Listen… I've got to go. I love you."

"Duncan!" Amanda cried out as she heard the disconnect. "Duncan!" She began to cry and felt Gina's arms surround her in comfort.

"Oh _cheri_… It will be fine. He'll come back. I know he will. Duncan was always an honorable man." She took the phone from Amanda's grasp and hung it up. "Let me make you some tea. Or maybe a good stiff drink?" Her voice was soothing and Amanda thought that maybe a good stiff drink was just the thing she needed.

-----

**Paris:**

The strains of the blues rose in the air and emanated from the music room where Abigail sat at the piano. She was humoring her grandpa, and accompanying his playing on the guitar. He didn't play too much anymore… something about stiff fingers. In fact… he only seemed to really play these days when he was worried. Oh he played at the club sometimes… but seldom here at the house.

His voice sounded smoky and filled with pain… both physical and emotional. Abigail realized that accompanying him was the least she could do.

Above the music, she heard the phone, but kept playing. Dawson could get if he could pry himself away from his computer. Estelle was out shopping, so if he didn't get it… the machine would. The phone stopped ringing after three rings and she decided that the machine had picked up. She focused on the arbirtary and changing key of Grandpa's playing. It was one of the reasons that she'd never really cared for the blues… it changed everytime it was played… unlike Chopin… Mozart… Bach… Beethoven. Their music never changed… except in the way she learned to linger on some notes and dance on others.

Grandpa stopped playing. He was staring at the doorway at Dawson. Abigail stopped playing as well.

"It's Mr. MacLeod, Grandpa. He wants to talk to you… says it's important."

"Damn right it's important!" Joe said as he reached for the phone. "And don't tell your mother I said that in front of you1"

Dawson laughed and settled on the arm of the sofa. "I hear worse than that in school."

Abigail snickered. "And say worse."

He glared at her and stuck out his tongue. She returned the gesture.

"Mac… you sonofab…gun," Joe finished lamely. "Where the he… heck are you?"

"I'm fine Joe. Still on the trail of Craille."

"Yeah… well so is Adam. I gave him the same addresses after what I heard happened in Eastern France."

"What did you tell him?" the Highlander asked pointedly.

"What could I tell him? You were off on some crazy mission to find these two for God only knows what reason?" Joe's voice rose in accusation and then noticing the stares of his grandchildren he lowered his voice as he engaged the chair and headed into the hallway and then out into the garden. "Listen Mac. I was worried… okay. I have a vested interest in you. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I don't want anything to happen to me either, Joe. Listen… this isn't about that… I told you."

"Well what about Eastern France?"

"A chance meeting and a man who wouldn't say no. I'm fine."

"The police are looking for you. They impounded your car."

"Yeah… I know. I'm off the radar right now and hoping to stay that way."

"Well Adam called from Manchester earlier. The London and Manchester addresses were empty… had been for years. He and Robert were headed for Glasgow."

He waited while there was a long pause on the other end of the phone. "They're likely there by now."

"Yeah… they could be."

Another pause. "Then I'm headed east to Moscow. It's what I planned to do before things got complicated."

"You don't think they're in Glasgow do you?"

"I don't know. I do know I have to find them, and if Methos finds them first… it'll be fine. Not what I would have wanted… but it'll be fine."

"Well call me! Stay in touch!"

"If I can. Goodbye, Joe." There was a click on the line… and then the dial tone.

"Dagblasted sonofa…" Joe sighed, and felt like tossing the phone. He lowered his head onto his upraised right hand, resting on the arm of his chair and scratched at his scalp and beard. He tried the redial button.

"_H__ôtel Vincennes_," came the pleasant female voice.

"Here in Paris?" Joe asked, surprised.

"_Certainment, monsieur_. How may I assist you."

Joe paused. "Do you have a Duncan Macleod staying there?"

"_Non monseiur_, we do not."

Joe held his breath. "_Merci beaucoup_," he replied and rang off. "Now what would bring him back to Paris?" He considered contacting the organization to put a field agent on him as he had when Mac had first left. Again he hesitated. MacLeod had earned Joe Dawson's trust. He dropped the phone into his lap and headed back toward the house.

"Everything okay with Mr. MacLeod, Grandpa?" Abigail asked. Dawson nodded his agreement with his twin's question.

"Yeah… what say we try that number again, darlin'," Joe grinned.

Abigail gave him a strange look as if she knew things he'd never told her. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "For you… anything." He squeezed her hand as he glanced at Dawson. "Want to join us?"

Dawson laughed. "Doing what Grandpa?"

"We could use a drummer," he suggested.

"Drummer? With what?"

"Ah Dawson, my boy. Anything works… even your hands and your thigh."

Dawson glanced at Abigail and then nodded. "Okay… sure. I can do that."

The three went back into the music room where the twins occupied their grandpa until their mother arrived.

-----

Duncan had waited until he was ready to leave before calling Joe. As soon as he was finished, he checked out. He'd spent the morning obtaining the proper forms to have bodies shipped to Greece and had paid handsomely to expedite matters from the funds he'd withdrawn from the bank in Geneva. He knew Joe would call back. In fact, he'd been checking out at the front desk when the clerk had answered the phone. He could hear Joe on the other end of the line. He'd be gone long before his Watcher could get a man on him.

Upon leaving the hotel, Duncan checked on the shipment at the small airport. Since flights couldn't land on Niebos, only chartered helicopters with clearance, he'd needed to let Phillip know. Amanda's being in Florence had saved him a phone call, although it had been rough to hear her voice and realize how much he was risking by this course of action. But he'd started something, and he needed to complete it… no matter what.

He watched the vaults loaded onto the plane and then watched it take off… banking toward the southeast. It was done… and it was no longer in his hands. At that, and feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted, Duncan climbed into the battered Volvo he'd bought, and hit the highway. He had a bad feeling about Moscow… and about Kate. He'd leave Glasgow to Methos… hell… he was nearly there. but he didn't think Alistair had gone to Scotland. Scotland would remind Kate of Duncan… where he was from… and Duncan didn't think Alistair would chance that. No… he'd go someplace else… someplace where Kate would think only of him… and their child.

Duncan discovered that thought made him jealous. It was his child too! At least… that was how he felt… even if biology said otherwise. Some part of him was in that child… and he was determined to find it… and its mother!

-----

**Glasgow:**

The Manchester estate had been deserted and in poor repair. Methos had felt almost relieved that no one was attempting to live there. He sniffed disparagingly as he'd walked the grounds.

"What's the problem?" Robert had asked.

"It's fine land. It could be very fertile. It's such a shame to see it like this."

"Absentee landowner," Robert had said with a shrug. "Just because you or I make an attempt to keep all of our properties in good repair, doesn't mean every immortal does."

Methos had nodded. "But it's a crime."

After seeing two of Craille's properties, Methos now did not hold out much hope that the third would be any different. The man was an acquirer… not a collector. Methos was old enough to know the difference. Craille wanted things… but once he had them… they held no interest for him. Methos feared that if MacLeod had made it possible for Kate to have a child… then Craille might not be too interested in her anymore. And if Craille were no longer interested, that damned Scots honor of MacLeod would make him step to the plate, as it were, and stand by Kate through this. Methos worried about that. But he said nothing to Robert.

By late afternoon they'd arrived at the property west of Glasgow. Surrounded by rolling hills, the small stone house looked quaint and well appointed. Unfortunately, a caretaker and his family lived there. They kept an eye on the fields, the horses, and the _tor_.

A walk around the tall stone tower that had once been the Scottish idea of a castle, convinced Methos that Craille had gone elsewhere. He motioned for Robert and drove to the nearby inn where he rented a room. Following dinner, he retired to their room, leaving Robert in the tavern.

The ancient immortal stretched on his bed and cleared his thoughts. He needed more than an occasional brush with Eleanor. He needed her. He relaxed until he felt as if he was floating… and she was there. He could feel her stretched beside him… hovering above him… laughing. He could feel her teasing touch, her kisses… soft as thoughts. He could smell her… taste her. She eased around behind him and held on while they galloped across the Scottish moors not far from here. It was summer… and the shadow of immortality had yet to touch her. He reigned in the horse and leaned to pat his neck at the top of one hill. In the distance, he could see the small stone church at the crossroads where he'd died.

She clasped him tighter, begging him to move on. "_I don't like this place_," she seemed to say. He could feel her shudder.

He pulled at the reigns and turned aside. Over the next rise was the desert… clean… and unspoiled. On the horizon three figures on horseback waited for him. Again he reigned the horse in. "_Ride on_," she whispered and he felt the darkness that still dwelt deep within her. "_Ride on!_" Methos shook his head… he had a better idea and pulled her to him… crushing her against him… seeming to turn with her in mid-air as if they were in the midst of a whirlwind and the horse had vanished.

Vaguely he heard the drums and saw above them the standing stones of legend looming as if guardians of the past. "_We haven't been here in a while_," he told her. She laughed and melted against him as painted figures danced about them beneath a blood-red moon.

-----


	45. Chapter FortyFour

**Chapter Forty-Four  
****Glasgow:**

It was likely mid-morning by the time Methos woke. Blearily he sat up, aware that he felt as if he'd not slept at all. The unity bond, especially when they delved into the oldest memories, the ones the ancients had left with them, always wore them out. He could barely sense a still-dozing Eleanor half a world away. It wasn't as bad when they were together as when they tried this while separated. He held his throbbing head and breathed raggedly. It definitely was time to go home.

Rising, he set about showering and shaving, noting the sunken look about his eyes. It had been worth it… it always was… and yet the aftermath was debilitating. Was that why D'Jann and Gael had stopped communicating after so many years? He shook his head and then applied the razor, carefully scraping the stubble from his chin. Gael and D'Jann had stopped communicating with one another long before he left to wander the world… so that couldn't be right.

No… this had more to do with delving into deeply buried memories to explore rather than more recent ones that one or both of them had personally shared. He rinsed his face and wiped it, then dressed. He wandered into the inn's restaurant and acknowledged Robert's wave. He joined him, slipping wearily into the opposite chair at the wooden table and ordering coffee.

"You like you had a rough night," the Frenchman laughed. He sipped his coffee as he watched Methos gulp his down and then stare at the empty cup.

Methos looked up and nodded. "You look like you had a great night."

Robert leaned close to him and whispered. "I think I was with Gina last night."

Methos arched an eyebrow. "You think?"

"Damnedest thing. I was thinking of her… of being with her… and somehow on the edge of sleep… I think I was. I feel great!" He saluted with his cup as he sat back.

Methos nodded and rubbed his eyes.

"Is that what it means to be 'one' as you were explaining?"

"United and yet separate… yes." Methos nodded and smiled when the waitress re-filled his cup. This time… he sipped it more slowly. "You'll discover that as you share each other's thoughts, that you will come to a greater understanding of one another. And yet… you have to learn to observe and be accepting of whatever the other does."

"Accepting?"

Methos sighed. "You are one for all time. I know no way to break that."

"I don't want it broken. We did this because we wanted this!" His voice rose and then he lowered it to keep others in the restaurant from overhearing them. "I love Gina."

Methos nodded. "But what will you think of each other in a hundred years? In five hundred? In a thousand years? You may find that one of you wants to move on."

Robert looked at him stunned. "I can't imagine not being with Gina."

"Not even when Madeline LeSeur was in the house?" the elder immortal teased.

"That was different. That was just idle speculation. I never would have done anything. I was floored by Gina's jealousy over so little a thing."

Methos nodded. "That's why the unity needs to be taken slowly. Once you've learned to co-exist and accept one another's thoughts, then you can begin exploring your memories."

Robert's mouth opened. "Oh…" he finally said. "That's what you were doing last night?"

Methos nodded. "It was a long hard ride."

"What?"

"Sorry. Eleanor and I usually visualize the search for memories as a horseback ride through the landscapes of our past. Last night… we visited a very old one."

"How old?" Robert sat forward, his interest piqued.

Shaking his head, Methos attempted to allay his interest. "Jut somewhere we hadn't been in a while." He had no way of knowing if Robert and Gina would also find the ancient memories buried in their minds. Their bond needed to be explored on their own without knowledge of what might be there at the base of it.

"So you were pushing the envelope of what you could do. Is it that way when you're together?" Robert was evidently feeling that first flush of unity at a distance and was eager to explore. Methos recalled that time in his and Eleanor's relationship… and then the joy of actually holding her again. "When we're together… it's more in the moment with flashes of memory. It's harder to really explore a memory and see it from all points of view when we're together. We've only done this a few times." He gestured at his head, meaning the long-range exploration. "It's tiring, however."

Robert's eyes glittered. "So… can I see Gina soon?"

Sighing, the elder immortal nodded. Yes… it was time to let those two find their own way. Surely by now they'd dealt with each other's stray memories. Even Amanda could likely handle the two of them. He rubbed his hands over his face, his stomach doing flip-flops at the thought of food. "We'll check out in a bit and hit the road south."

"Marvelous," grinned Robert. "Absolutely marvelous. Now if I had Amanda's number, I'd call her and tell her we're on the way."

Methos pulled out his phonecard and tapped in Amanda's number. "Be my guest," he muttered. "I'll be upstairs packing." He rose to make his way back to his room. He didn't have much to pack, but that bed was looking very inviting again. He could still sense Eleanor on the edge of her exhausted sleep. "Might as well join you," he decided. A few moments later, he was asleep.

-----

**Niebos:**

J. D. slipped away while the others were at lunch. He pretended not feeling well, and instead of going to his room while Grace was serving the meal, slipped out of the villa and crossed the courtyard on his way to the village.

From his room at the hospital, Kenny saw the boy and decided that it was time he checked himself out of the hospital against orders. He was tired of being put off. Carefully he eased down the corridor and past the nurse's station, watched this morning only by one of the mortal nurses. He did not sense Greg anywhere. He seemed to be the one putting in the hours here now, and Kenny wondered why. When he reached one of the outer doors, he opened it and raced off in the general direction of J. D. The boy interested him for several reasons… not the least being that he was a potential target. His quickening wouldn't be much… he was so young… but it would be something.

The sun beat overhead in a cloudless sky, and the look of the sea was dark… as if made of something besides water… something like blood or wine. The whitewashed stone buildings of the village seemed to glow in the heat, and insects buzzed about him as he slunk through the grasses.

Kenny caught sight of J. D. looking around and then making a beeline for an overgrown path. He gave him several minutes and then stepped out of the grasses and trotted toward the path.

"Hey you!" a man shouted. "You can't go that way. You know the rules."

Kenny paused. He knew of no rules. He pointed down the path.

"No!" the man insisted as he came closer. He pulled Kenny away from the path. "Going that way risks the anger of the gods. If you want to go… climb the mountain!" He pointed toward another path snaking up the side of the mountain.

Kenny nodded with a sneer and backed away toward the other path, thinking that he could get out of sight and double back. But the man kept watch. Every time Kenny looked back, he saw him staring at him. When he was halfway up the path, and the man still kept watch, Kenny shrugged and began to trot faster, curious as to what he'd find.

At the villa, Chou and Denis finished lunch and took a portion of dessert with them to the room they shared with J. D. When they didn't find him there, they paused only a moment before realizing what he'd done.

"He's gone to the cove again," Chou said. "He wasn't happy when we told him we wouldn't go back there with him."

Denis tossed the slice of cake on J. D.'s bed. "Let's go."

"Shouldn't we tell Phillip?"

"He's at the cove. It's almost low tide."

"What about Grace? Or Carl?"

"We can handle this," Denis said and led the way. Time was of the essence. They cut around to the rear of the villa and raced to the path, catching its serpentine loops halfway up. They'd done this before… over the years, when they were in a hurry. And right now… they were most definitely in a hurry.

Reaching the top of the mountain, Chou slowed and looked about. "Do you feel someone?"

"All the time," laughed Denis and raced through the ruins until he reached to top of the stairs. Once there he crouched down.

"What is it?" Chou asked.

"Just Phillip. We promised him we wouldn't go down there, remember."

"But why don't we tell him about J. D.?"

"I don't want to get him into trouble. He's likely around here someplace. If we're here, he can't get down there. We'll stop him and then go back down the mountain." Denis flopped onto his back to stare at the clear sky. "It sure is hot today," he said, wiping his brow. "Wish we had something to drink."

Chou crouched beside his friend. "Maybe that's who I felt earlier when we reached the summit."

"Musta been. If he doesn't show up soon, we'll go back down."

The smaller immortal shook his head as he flopped down beside Denis. "At least we're watching the steps."

-----

**Near Ayers Rock, Australia**

Amber disentangled herself from the others and, grabbing a blanket, wrapped it about her as she stood up. Noticing the state of the campfire, she stirred the embers and added some fresh wood. Listening to the comforting crackle as the new wood caught, she sat by the fire with her legs drawn to her chest and stared at the monolith still a few miles away.

Amber ran her fingers through her tangled hair as she tried to figure out why she was even here?

She'd left the ship after Cassandra had spoken to her. She'd waited until Derrick was occupied and then she'd just left. The last thing she wanted to do was to be the cause of his death, and Cassandra had been very certain that Amber's presence at the upcoming confrontation would contribute to Derrick's dying. So she'd packed her few belongings in the knapsack and left without a word to anyone. No note… nothing.

Less than two hours after leaving the ship, her financial state… or lack thereof… had caused her to check out some bars in a seedy area of town. She'd entered one biker bar, thinking about asking for a job, when she'd felt the other immortals.

She'd become so accustomed to the feel of other immortals, she'd almost not even reacted, and then it had dawned on her that she felt them… they felt her… and that they were strangers. She found she was almost happy to see other immortals, and had approached them. After all… the bar was crowded, even this early, and surely no challenge would be made.

She'd been right. These three weren't really interested in a challenge. In many ways, they seemed much like Derrick's group, especially when they'd been biking across the Australian West. Just hanging together and seeing the sights. It was during the conversation that Amber realized just how much she missed being with others of her kind. It came as a shock to a woman who had lived most of her life avoiding other immortals when possible. Had Derrick changed her so much?

When the subject of Ayers Rock… _Uluru_ in the native tongue… had come up and she and the others had both spoken of a desire to see it… that's when the invitation for her to join them had been made. Any other time, Amber would not have trusted these three enough to have gone anywhere with them. But that day… with her emotions still in an uproar about what she'd been told and what she'd decided to do… even her continued existence seemed unimportant. After all, if she were dead… then Derrick was safe. She left with them, climbing behind one of the males and hugging to him as he roared off down the road. As she'd slipped her arms around him, she'd wondered if he would also feel as hard and firm as Derrick. He didn't. He felt like any mortal man she'd ever known.

When they'd camped here, and darkness had fallen, she'd watched the female and one of the males begin to make out by the fireside. She'd looked away while the other male sat closer to her. He soon made his intentions clear… he expected her to have sex with him. That in itself she'd understood as implicit from the beginning… from the invitation to join them. Besides… Amber was still curious if Dieter was anything like Derrick. She'd acquiesced… also hoping to bury her memories of her time with Derrick .

But if anything, they'd been brought into sharp focus. Dieter was only interested in the act… in thrusting between her legs and then collapsing and rolling off of her. There had been no attempt to satisfy her. That, apparently wasn't his strong suit… as Amber had soon learned.

She'd pushed him way and sat much as she now sat, by herself, wrapped in a blanket, gazing at the dark landscape. That's when Brynn, evidently finished for the moment with Sean, had joined her. She'd offered a cigarette and sat making small talk about the shortcomings of men. Amber had found herself joining in the spirit of Brynn's diatribe… and then Brynn had mentioned how it takes a woman to know what a woman wants.

Round two… or at least what Amber had come to think of as the second part of her initiation into the group had involved Brynn's slow and very intense seduction of her. It had been truly amazing and she'd not even been aware that that the men were sitting to either side watching them. Even when she'd realized that they were there, it had not distracted Amber from the way Brynn was making her feel.

Round three had been Sean and round four… Amber glanced back at the three of them still intertwined and sleeping off the effects of booze, drugs and sex… had been a full-blown orgy that Amber was not certain she could clearly recall. Sitting here now, she couldn't imagine that she had participated so willingly… it just wasn't her. Her mouth had a sour taste to it, and her head pounded with an odd _thrum_ that seemed to originate from the monolith as well as from her head.

"Yar a fool Katie-girl! A bloody fool!" she murmured softly. Now here she was, miles from civilization with three strangers, and not certain how to extricate herself from this group without losing her head. Although, she snickered, as bad as her head felt right now… that might actually be a consideration.

She looked up sharply as she heard a jet cycle in the distance and saw the cloud of dust emanating from the lone rider in black making a beeline for their campsite. Amber swallowed nervously, aware that it was Derrick. He'd come for her. She stood up and pulled the blanket tighter… ready to face him… and lie to make him leave without her. Blasted fool! Didn't he understand how important what he was trying to do was? He shouldn't be out here! Amber glanced nervously at the other three, slowly waking up and wondered if it were here that Derrick would meet his fate… because he'd come for her.

The bike slowed to a stop and she could sense him already… as could the others. He pulled off his helmet but remained seated on the bank… staring at her morosely… as if it were the end of the world. Then he turned the bike off and swung his leg over and off as he took several steps toward them.

With a snarl, Sean rose, and grabbed for his sword. "Be right with you!"

Derrick paused and spread his hands.

"_He's not armed!" _Amber realized in terror. She turned and grabbed Sean's arm. "He's a friend of mine. Let me talk to him."

Sean gave her a cold look, but then nodded. "Tell him to be on his way."

"I will. Just give me a few moments… please," she replied, aware that Dieter had grabbed his sword as well. Bryn sat laughing in the pile of blankets, her bare breasts jiggling with each chuckle. "Dieter," Amber added, "I'll take care of this." She backed away from the two immortals thinking how odd they looked, naked and holding swords compared to Derrick, who was dressed but with no sword apparent.

Turning she crossed the campsite to talk to him. "Ya found me."

Derrick nodded. "Come back with me… please."

"Can't do it." She tossed her head and smiled. "It was fun Derrick… but it's over. I've moved on."

"Cassandra told me what she said to you."

"Doesn't matter. That just gave me an excuse. Now ya run along now. Tell everybody I said 'Hi!' and not to worry."

'You don't mean that."

"Sure I do!" she said brightly, fighting the tears that wanted to form in her eyes. "Ya have things to do… now be off with ya."

"No. I'm not leaving without you."

"Well ya have to. My new friends will see to it."

Derrick's shoulders sagged as he looked back at the others and then at her. "I can't do this without you. I need you."

Amber froze, closing her eyes. She shook her head finally, "Ya don't need an ignorant girl like me. I'm not important. Besides, Cassandra could be right."

"I know she could be right… but I'm willing to take the chance. I can't live my life in fear of tomorrow. I have to live it today. And today… I want to take you back to the ship. If you don't want to be with me… that's fine… but you shouldn't be here." He gave her a thin smile. "They are not what you need. This lifestyle is not what you need. Look within yourself if you doubt my words. See the truth."

He was right… damn him! Amber had come to the same conclusion and here was her way out. But to go back with him? A sob escaped her throat and she turned away, unable to prevent the tears from falling. She sensed him stepping closer to her, his voice soft and pitched for her. "You don't want to stay here. If I can see it… how long before they notice it. Please Amber… I'm only thinking of you."

She turned back and felt his arms go about her. He held her gently as if she were a porcelain figure that might break. He felt so good, and she noted the hard feel of his chest and arms. Gradually her arms went around his chest and she clung to him while weeping. Both physically and emotionally, Derrick was her rock.

When she finally stopped she looked up at him. He smiled, took her face in his hands, wiped her tears, and kissed her brow. "Now get dressed. We'll talk later."

Amber nodded and then looked for her discarded clothes and her knapsack. While hurriedly dressing, she noted that Derrick crouched next to the fire and was joined by Sean, who'd pulled on his pants, and Dieter who'd grabbed his and was holding them. The three were deep in conversation, speaking German she thought. Well… Dieter was German, but Sean was an American slightly older than she was. He'd been killed by an English soldier during the American Revolution. Brynn was English, a free-spirit of the 1960's. They weren't really in the game… except when it impinged on their travels and lifestyle. They'd been around the world three times since the three of them had hooked up… and had welcomed the occasional mortal into their little group… but rarely had they welcomed an immortal as they had her. Some of that had come out in the bits of conversation that Amber could still recall. Perhaps it had been their attitude about the game that had lowered Amber's resistance to traveling with them… and participating fully in their activities.

When dressed, she approached the campfire hesitantly, still worried about how her new friends would take her leaving them so quickly. She noted that Bryn had pulled on Sean's shirt and had joined the others at the campfire. She'd crouched down near Derrick and was working to get his attention focused on her and her availability.

Brynn looked up at her and said, mainly to Derrick. "So… you're her old boyfriend?"

Derrick chuckled. "Something like that."

"She's fun. I like her. Are you fun?"

Derrick laughed several moments. "Not particularly."

Then the conversation took a turn Amber did not expect.

"So," Sean was saying, "what changes for us if we come with you?"

Derrick shook his head. "Likely nothing."

Amber's mouth opened in confusion. What was he thinking? And where would he put them on the boat? It was already full!

As if aware that she was confounded, Derrick winked at her. "Your personal relationships among yourselves is not a problem. You should respect the others on the boat though. They might not be interested."

There were some low comments between the three as Derrick rose and held out a hand to Amber. "Ready?"

"Aye," she said and took it. They walked slowly to his bike where he climbed on and she climbed on behind him. She slipped his arms around his chest, feeling again his lean hardness and laid her face against his back, breathing in his familiar smell.

"Wait!" Sean shouted. "We're coming too!" The three sprang to get dressed, kicked out the campfire, gathered their belongings and loaded their bikes. Derrick waited, not starting the jet cycle until the others were ready, then he pulled on his helmet again and took off. The other two bikes followed.

-----

Oliver Titus nearly missed the whole thing. He'd stopped on a small rise, far enough away from the immortals to still be able to watch them with his telescope. He'd actually traveled with them for a while… and had found he rather enjoyed their free and easy lifestyle. But he'd known that he couldn't remain, not after Brynn had noticed his Watcher tattoo. They hadn't known what it was, so Oliver had just said it was a remnant of his misspent youth and then left them to follow and watch at a distance.

They'd picked up a replacement for him at the biker bar. He'd noticed her climbing on behind Dieter when they'd left the bar and made a notation in his PPC that they had a new playmate. Then he'd followed them until they stopped. He hadn't dared light a fire… not out here where even a match could be seen, so he'd had a cold dinner while watching the festivities. By the time the orgy started, he'd stopped watching to deal with his own reactions to their activities and had finally gone to sleep.

The sound of the new bike had awakened him. He hadn't gotten a good look at the newcomer, he'd had his back to Oliver, but the Watcher figured pretty quickly that it was some biker looking for his runaway girlfriend. He held his breath wondering about how one-sided a fight would be, but then it looked like she was leaving with him, and Oliver supposed that that was that. All seemed quiet.

He'd stopped looking long enough to pack his few belongings and to relieve himself so that he was caught by surprise when he realized that Sean's trio were leaving with the newcomer. Maybe they were all off to see the rock, he mused, and waited for them to pull out before starting his own bike and following at a short distance. He'd gone overland rather than on the road, and managed to hit a rock, skid, and lose control. The bike flipped him over when it went airborne. By the time he picked himself up and got back to the bike… now with a flat tire and a bent rim… his assignments had vanished.

Oliver didn't think much of it. Sean, Dieter and Brynn were fairly regular in their gypsy lifestyle. He'd pick them up at the next town… likely at a bar.

He didn't, of course. Not finding them when he finally returned to Broome, after catching a ride with a farmer in his pickup, he contacted the local bureau chief and put out a request for information should there be any sightings. He didn't mention the new girl or her boyfriend. After all, they were likely just mortals who'd gone their own way.

-----


	46. Chapter FortyFive

**Chapter Forty-Five  
****Niebos:**

J. D. hid behind the rocks until Phillip left the cove and started along the cove path, pausing near where J. D. was hiding and looking around thoughtfully. J. D. held his breathuntil Phillip finally shrugged and went on. The boy waited until he was certain Phillip had gone and then raced to the surf. Already it was coming in and he wouldn't have long before he'd have to head back. He didn't want to have to climb the steps again.

He couldn't say what had brought him back, made it seem so darned important. But he was here. And he wanted to see if the lady he thought he'd seen showed up again. Splashing through the incoming tide, feeling the waves on his bare feet and the wet sand between his toes, J. D. eased out towards the rock ledge… and its hidden treasure. Oh… he had no intention of bothering it… he just wanted a better look at the chained immortal. He held his cast high… hoping he wouldn't get it wet. The waves crashed in around him the further out he went, and the deeper the water. J. D. paused, wondering where the path to the rock shelf was.

Hearing voices, he turned with a start and saw Chou and Denis descending the steps. Evidently they'd figured out where he was. Shallow water lapped at his feet. J. D. shrugged, assuming he'd found the path and went further out, his eyes focused on the sand below him. He didn't want to walk off the narrow sandbar and into the deeper water.

The waves crashed further out and withdrew.

Behind him, he heard Chou and Denis yelling. He looked back at them. Denis was running toward him. Chou was pointing towards the ocean. J. D. turned to see what was so important and froze. He stood openmouthed staring at the wall of water still some distance away.

Denis reached his side and pulled him back. "We got to go… now!"

J. D. nearly lost his footing, noticing now that there was no water in the cove at all. He pulled loose, intending to get a better look at the chained form near the suddenly exposed rock shelf. Denis pulled him. "No time!"

The wall was getting higher and higher the closer it came to shore. In this rocky cove where it would hit… there was nowhere for the water to go. "Climb!" Denis yelled and began bushing J. D. up the stairs. "Faster!"

J. D. climbed as fast as he could, but still he kept glancing over his shoulder at the water. It still seemed to be higher than they were. He re-doubled his efforts, nearly tripping and falling but caught by Denis and pushed to continue his desperate climb. "We're not gonna make it!" he managed to yell at the two boys below him.

"Don't talk! Climb faster!" Denis yelled.

J. D. focused on the rocks, unable to use one hand… while the memory of falling the last time and the pain of it echoed in his memory.

Then there was a hand above him. J. D. didn't think twice. He grabbed it and let Kenny pull and steady him the rest of the way. The two collapsed on the mountain top. J. D. breathlesss, Kenny, silent and staring at the water ready to crash onto the cliff-face. Denis and Chou were still climbing. Denis was scampering over the edge now and turned to reach for Chou as the wave of water hit.

The smaller boy vanished in the explosion of water and foam against the rock. Sprays of water leaped into the air, splashing down on the mountaintop. But the three there were safe. They were above the wave, if not above some of the splashing. Faster than it had come in, the water raced out to sea again… a brown and bubbling torrent of Nature's fury. And with the wave… went Chou.

Denis had seen the other immortals fearful face as the water had enveloped and swallowed him. Chou had screamed as he'd looked up at Denis… reaching out to him with his arms. But as the wave retreated… so Chou had diminished in Denis' sight until it was if he'd never been. Denis screamed his denial at the cloud-clear sky.

-----

Curled onto her side, Eleanor became aware of Marianna's babbling. Opening an eye, she saw her small daughter sitting cross-legged on the bed and talking to two small dolls. Eleanor yawned, still tired and sleepy.

"Morning little one," she grinned.

"Not morning," Marianna replied in between her cooing and babbling to her dolls.

"Not morning?" Eleanor rolled on to her back and glanced through the French doors. The sun was evidently high overhead.

"No Momma. We had lunch."

Eleanor rolled back on her side and curled around Marianna as she arched an eyebrow and teased, "And what did you have for lunch?"

"Fruit salad and cheese and bread and cake for dessert." She grinned, proud that she'd recalled everything she'd evidently eaten.

"And why are you in Momma's bed?" She reached over and began to tickle her daughter.

Marianna whooped in glee as she laughed and kicked her legs up and down. "For tickle fingers!" she finally managed to get out.

"And raspberry kisses?" teased Eleanor… kissing and blowing on Marianna's neck. Methos usually gave her those… likely she was missing him. Marianna whooped even louder. But even above her laughing… Eleanor heard the siren in the village go off. "Now what?" she said and scooted off the bed to pad to the French doors. She opened them and stepped out onto the small balcony. Her room did not face the village, but even from where she was… she could see people running for the mountainside.

Filled with curiosity, Marianna followed her onto the balcony. Eleanor picked her up and settled her on one hip. "Loud!" her daughter said covering her ears.

"Yes," Eleanor murmured, wondering what was happening. She turned and raced back into the bedroom, and down the stairs to the main floor. She threaded through the rooms to the huge brick veranda overlooking the village and harbor. Once there… she stood gazing in horror at the wall of water.

"_Tsunami_," she whispered. She'd seen one once before… long ago. That time she'd had to run along with others to keep from being swept out to sea. This time, she could tell that the villa and the hospital were out of range of the wave's influence. It would spread out over the low-lying land and then retreat.

Aware that Grace likewise stood on the veranda, breathing in short bursts, Eleanor put Marianna down. "Grace?"

"John's in the village," Grace sobbed and then bent over with a short cry of pain. She leaned on one of the chairs.

Eleanor put one hand on her friend's back and reached around to lay the other on Grace's burgeoning belly. "It's not time," she said.

"No," moaned Grace as her knees buckled. She gasped again and this time, Eleanor felt the strong draw of the developing child. Small crackles of quickening sparked around her fingers. She glanced around. "Where are the boys? Where's Phillip?"

"Phillip went to the cove… low-tide," moaned Grace. "Greg's at the hospital," she added.

"The boys?"

"J. D. felt sick at lunch and went to lie down. The others went to see about him."

Eleanor looked around and noted Carl and Denara standing and gaping at the wave as it crashed onto the white sand beaches and through the streets of the village.

"Carl… John's in the village! Find him. Grace needs him… can you do that?"

The big man looked with worry at Grace and then the boiling sea of brown, muddy water flowing freely over the lower areas of the island. Even from here, they could hear screams and cries of terror and loss. He nodded and took off at a run.

"Denara, find J. D. and the boys," Eleanor continued. By this time she had Grace leaning over the back of a chair and was actively massaging her back while quickening continued to crackle where she touched her.

Grace shook her off. "I know what to do!" she snapped. "I was a mid-wife for centuries!"

Eleanor nodded. "But there's a difference between mid-wifery and actually giving birth."

"Methos made me promise not to involve you in the birth," she sobbed.

"I'm fine… and don't worry. Now breathe. You need to calm down."

Denara came racing back onto the terrace, "The boys aren't in the house," she lisped.

Eleanor looked around fearfully… aware that her rising fear would soon be known to Methos. She had to find J. D.

"I know," Marianna said tugging at her mother's hem.

"Know what little one?"

Marianna pointed. "I saw them go up."

Eleanor bit her lip. J. D. had promised not to go up there… but if they were up there, they were safe… unless… Panic rose higher as she realized the cove had likely taken a direct hit. In its narrow expanse, if the boys had been down there… they were dead. Her hands began to shake. She had to get up there… she had to see for herself.

Grace cried out again. Another contraction! This was too soon!

As if in answer to a prayer, she heard John calling out from the grounds. He was running full out in his attempt to get back to the villa. "Grace!" he yelled.

Grace called back to him and then shuddered and moaned. John reached the terrace and quickly swept her into his arms, holding her from behind, his arms wrapped about her, his hands on her abdomen. The surge of quickening grew. "I have you now."

Eleanor stepped back… "I have to find J. D. Where's Phillip?"

John was breathing loudly in Grace's ear trying to get her to breathe evenly with him. "He was me, helping to drag villagers to safety. I told Carl to stay and help."

Eleanor looked around wildly. "I have to go John… can you manage?"

"I've been preparing for this for the past few months. Go! Phillip sent someone to the hospital to let Greg know. He'll be here as soon as he can."

"You can't do this alone," Eleanor persisted, torn between finding the boys and making certain that neither Grace nor John paid the ultimate price for this child.

"I'm here," said Denara. "I can help."

Eleanor grabbed her. "No! You have to watch Marianna. Neither of you is to leave this house until I return! Do you understand?" Desperation was beginning to creep into her words.

Denara bit her lip and nodded soberly. "I'm not a child Eleanor."

Eleanor nearly lost it at that moment. She let tears form as she nodded in agreement. "I know… and I depend on you to keep Marianna safe." She picked up her daughter. "Momma has to go to the ruins to find J. D. You stay and play with Denara." She smiled and kissed Marianna and then held her tightly before setting her down. "Watch her!" she called over her shoulder as she raced from the terrace and around the villa to the serpentine path. Her bare feet oblivious to the small cuts and bruises of rock and nettle. She could climb this path in her sleep. She knew all of the turns… she knew how many steps… she knew all the places where she could cut across and climb to the next level without losing time.

She heard cries below her and paused to see another wave come crashing on shore… bigger than the first one. Eleanor redoubled her efforts to get to the ruins on the summit. She couldn't worry about what was below… until she assured herself that J. D. was safe. the life of her son was what mattered.

So focused was she on the ground and finding her footing as she climbed that it was only when she heard J. D. call out "Mom!" that she looked up… almost fearfully. J. D. and Kenny were on either side of and supporting a sobbing Denis. A wave of relief coursed through her when she saw him. He was alive! Her son was alive! She raced toward the boys, thanking all the gods who'd ever been and swept him into her arms as she wept.

"Aw Mom!" J. D. protested. "I'm fine."

She continued to hold him for some moments before holding him at arm's length., and checking him for additional broken bones and or scrapes and cuts. He was bleeding in several places, most notably a gash on his head, but nothing serious. Then anger followed her relief. "What were you doing? I told you to stay close to the house?" Then she glared at Denis. "And you… You were supposed to be looking out for him!" Even Kenny caught part of her tirade. "And why are you here? Getting into trouble as usual?"

"Mom! Mom! Give Denis a break! We're okay… but the wave took Chou out to sea," J. D. explained frantically.

Eleanor looked about as if unable to process J. D.'s last comment. "Chou?" she finally murmured.

Denis, now loose from the grasp of the others, turned and tried to return to the summit. Kenny grabbed his arm, urgently shaking his head. Letting his grief overwhelm him, Denis collapsed to the dirt and sat holding his head, his knees drawn up. His sobs wracked his thin body.

J. D. meanwhile was trying to explain. "It was my fault. Don't be mad at him. I was the one who snuck off to the cove. If they hadn't come for me… it would have been me carried out to sea. Even then… without Kenny… I doubt we would have made it back up the steps in time."

Eleanor knelt next to Denis and gathered him into her arms as he sobbed. The two small immortals had been inseparable for well over a century. They'd found a common bond in both their small size and outlook on their situation. While Chou might well survive and be found, it didn't lessen the grief Denis felt. J. D.'s arms went around his mother as she held Denis. For J. D., this was the first time he'd ever lost someone close to him. Even knowing Chou was immortal did not lessen his grief at his loss, nor his concern for Denis. Kenny stood near, looking uncomfortable and uncertain. Eleanor reached an arm toward him and gave him a weak smile. "Thank you," she whispered as she clasped his hand and pulled him down to their group embrace. It felt good to hold on to one another in the face of what had happened.

Within her mind, she finally let the walls crumble and let her relief shine across the miles.

-----

**Glasgow:**

The loud pounding on the door woke Methos. He struggled up from sleep, also aware that something was bothering Eleanor. He could feel her tension… and her desperate attempts to keep her mental walls erect. "Bloody hell!" he shouted. "What is it?"

A tense Robert opened the door. "It's on the news. Didn't you say Eleanor was in Greece?"

"What?" Thoughts of an attack on the island by mortals or immortals rose in the ancient immortal's mind.

"An earthquake… a strong one in the Aegean Sea." Robert crossed to the small television in one corner, turning it on and adjusting it. He stepped back.

"Once again," the somber news reporter was intoning in a deep voice, "a strong earthquake has been felt in the area of the Aegean Sea off the coast of Greece. We have little if any information about it's strength at this time… but _tsunami _warnings have been issued for the area, and reports of the waves overwhelming coastal villages on some of the smaller islands have been reported."

Methos closed his eyes and focused on the thread of Eleanor's fear and desperation. She was frantic… but no details were clear. Then it came… a wave of relief. "_J. D.!_" was all he clearly got. His legs buckled and he collapsed sitting on the bed… her sense of relief nearly overwhelming him. The ancient immortal slowed his breathing… as both Robert and the voice of the newsman faded to the background. His family was safe for the moment.. He looked up. "I have to go home," he finally said aloud.

Robert nodded. "I was on the phone with Gina when the news broke. She and Amanda are in Rome."

Methos' brow knotted. "Rome? Shopping?"

Robert shook his head. "Amanda got a message from MacLeod. He's fine. Amanda said for me to tell you that he found the artifacts and was shipping them to Greece."

Methos stared without comprehension.

"Anyway…" Robert continued. "He wanted Amanda to take some things from the villa in Florence to Phillip and they were in Rome trying to arrange a flight to Athens."

"The artifacts?" Methos tried to understand what the artifacts had to do with the Highlander's search for Kate and Alistair. He shook his head. Evidently something had suddenly broken loose. MacLeod had been working on the problem of the artifacts for twenty years without success. _What was going on?_

"Look… flights into Greece have been cancelled for the moment," Robert added. "You can't get there from here… at least not on a commercial flight." The Frenchman smiled. "I do have a private plane outside of Paris, though."

"Niebos doesn't have a landing strip," grumbled Methos as he grabbed his belongings and stuffed them into his carryall.

"Well," Robert replied, "I could fly over the island and push you out the cabin door. I'm certain you'd survive."

Methos stared at him and then chuckled as he ran a hand through his dark hair. 'I gues I would at that… but I hate the landing. It's always so messy."

Robert nodded. "Exactly. Now if we drive back to Paris, get my plane, we can stop off in Rome and pick up Gina and Amanda. I told them just to wait. Gina knows the smaller airport I use when we fly down. She can take Amanda there. From Rome, we fly to Athens. Finding a helicopter from there to Niebos ought to be possible."

_They were fine. His family was fine._ Methos nodded numbly. "Yes… there's a charter service in Athens that Phillip owns. I can put a hold on one for our purposes." He patted his shirt pockets and tried to think.

Robert held out the phonecard. "Here. Make the call."

Methos stared at it for some moments before realizing what it was and taking it. In the background the newsman was talking about additional waves and aftershocks. Finding the saved number, Methos gave the charter service a call even as he pulled on his coat with its hidden sword. A few moments later, he and Robert left the room and descended the stairs to check out. They had a long, hard drive ahead of them… but better that than commercial flights at the moment. At least in the car, they could secure their weapons and keep on the move.

-----


	47. Chapter FortySix

**Chapter Forty-Six  
****Rome:**

After speaking with Robert, Gina directed Amanda toward the small private airport that Robert had mentioned. The two women had left the villa in Florence after MacLeod's telephone call with a number of items from his study packed into a large suitcase.

After reaching Rome and learning that flights to Athens had been cancelled, Amanda had been considering driving on south… but had agreed to wait for the others to arrive. After all… some roads were closed and any travel into Greece and the surrounding area was currently restricted. Perhaps by the time Methos and Robert arrived, some of those restrictions would have been lifted. The latest information coming from authorities indicated that the undersea quake had been 9.2 in magnitude. The resulting _tsunami _had moved outward from the quake, impacting not only Greece, but Cyprus, Turkey, and to a lesser extent, Syria, Palestine, and Egypt as well. The boot of Italy had experienced some rise in tides, but had been spared any major involvement.

Amanda was also concerned about the shipment of artifacts. She had no idea and no way of knowing how MacLeod had shipped the items, and where they currently were. She hoped that they weren't irretrievably lost somewhere. She parked in the lot, while she and Gina strolled toward the main terminal of this small airport which the de Valicourts patronized.

"Ah _Signora_ de Valicourt!" the chubby man behind the counter exclaimed as they walked in . "_Buon giorno_! how may I assist you?" He stepped out from the behind the counter and profusely bowed, kissing Gina's outstretched hand and then exclaiming over Amanda.

"Robert is flying in from Paris later today or tonight, _Signore_ Amalfi. Can we wait for him here? He's picking us up."

"But of course. I even have _espresso_ and _biscotti _to offer why you wait. Were you two _bella donnas _in _Roma_ shopping?"

Gina laughed and was speaking with him. Amanda had something else that had garnered her attention. A taxi had arrived and she sensed an immortal in it. Curious, she wandered over to the plate-glass window to get a better view. But all she saw was the taxi suddenly taking off again. Whoever it was, hadn't wanted to meet another immortal. Amanda adjusted her cape, her fingers gripping the hilt of her small broadsword as she watched the departing taxi.

"_Prego per favore_?" Turning suddenly, she smiled winningly at _Signore_ Amalfi. "Is there another small airport in the area?"

Signore Amalfi looked askance at her. "Signorina, we are Roma's premier small airpost."

"I have no doubt. I was just curious."

"My friend meant nothing by it, _Signore_ Amalfi." Gina glared at Amanda, "She's just curious about how many small flights you can accomodate."

"_Si_," Amanda added. "My friend was shipping something to Greece but with all the tragedy there earlier today… how would I check on the shipment?"

"Ah… perhaps I could help the _Signorina _trace the shipment?" _Signore_ Amalfi was once more the genial host.

He asked Amanda a few questions… none of which she knew the answers to about the method of shipping, the company shipped with, when did it leave and from where? "But I do know to whom it was addressed," Amanda suggested with a teasing smile. "I'm just concerned about the shipment. It was priceless."

Shortly later, _Signore_ Amalfi had managed to locate a cargo plane out of Paris and an order for a shipment of items to Phillip Alexandros on the island of Niebos.

"_Grazie_," Amanda said wamly as she copied down the shipping information routing number. If it was rerouted, they should be able to find it. It looked like it was nine coffins to be shipped for burial on Niebos. Amanda's eyes rose slightly at the description of the shipment as coffins.

"Your friend wants to bury family in the homeland… _si_?" _Signore_ Amalfi suggested.

"_Si_," Amanda agreed smoothly. After she had what she needed she took Gina aside to tell her of the immortal she'd felt. "I didn't really get a look at him. Just his profile in the back seat of the taxi as it roared out of here.

"You worry too much, Amanda," Gina assured her. "He likely didn't want a challenge. He might have had urgent business elsewhere."

Amanda agreed, and the two settled in to listen to _Signore_ Amalfi's tales of _Italia_, while sipping his _espresso_ and nibbling his _biscotti_. But the behavior of the other immortal concerned her, and continued to niggle at the back of her mind.

-----

By the time their flight had landed at **_Leonardo Da Vinci International Airport_**, Burt Meyers, Matt McCormick, Ryan Coltraine and Cecile Marshall had quietly passed around the information they had and had discussed plans of attack to track and stop Martin Kingsley before he could murder any additional victims.

It was therefore a surprise when they were met at the gate by Giacomo Trattori, their Rome contact, who asured them that the two had arrived safely.

"Two?" Ryan sputtered. "Is there a woman with him?"

"_Si_!" Tratorri said and then nodded when Cecile pulled out the photograph of Sarah Manning. "That is the _signorina_ with him. She was very quiet and subdued. They sped through the terminal and the _signore_ flagged a taxi. I got the number." He held up a pad of paper. "Using our local contacts I learned that he drove them first to Amalfi Field north of _Roma_, a private field that caters to small chartered flights."

"First?" Burt asked.

"They no sooner arrived than the _signore_ paid the driver to take him to **_Ciampino_**, the main charter airport in the area. Likely he wanted the privacy of Amalfi… it is very small and the owner is very discreet, but had to settle for arranging a flight at the larger **_Ciampino_**."

"In an airport… he'd be unarmed," McCormick reminded them. "If I can get clearance to have my gun on me while in the terminal, we might have a chance." He turned to Trattori. "Can we get the clearance… and a delay of his flight?"

Trattori nodded. "_Si_… it will take some _grasso_… some grease," he rubbed his fingers together indicating the need for money to expedite what they wanted.

"Whatever it takes," Burt assured him. "Transportation?"

Trattori pointed the way to a limo parked in near the terminal. "We must hurry before the _poliziotto_ makes us move again." Meyers' group and Trattori threaded their way through the crowd to climb without problem into the limo. McCormick retrieved his sword from the special diplomatic pouch they'd carried aboard.

"You won't be able to get into the airport with that thing, _signore_," Trattori told him.

"Humor me," McCormick said darkly. He shifted in his seat to secure his blade within his coat and settled back in the seat, silent and glowering while the limo eased into Rome traffic and then sped toward **_Ciampino_** airport.

Burt brought Trattori up to speed on Kingsley's activities in the states while Cecile and Ryan chimed in occasionally from what they knew. McCormick said nothing. He'd called his mortal wife before leaving the states… just in case… and was mentally preparing himself for what he was certain would be a challenge.

-----

Arriving at the smaller of Rome's main two airports, McCormick flashed his badge and left Trattori to explain while he headed into the main terminal. He could feel an immortal in the area. Pausing in mid-terminal, the crowd streaming around him, Matt tried to zero in on the immortal's location. Turning about, he finally saw him… Martin Kingsley… much as he'd been so long ago in New Orleans, suave, impeccably dressed, saluting him with a smirk before turning to leave.

Matt pushed through the crowd after him, aware that Meyers and Coltraine were following him closely. A baggage cart cut him off and he collided with it. Swiftly he picked himself up and continued on. But he no longer felt Kingsley. "Damn!" He turned about looking for exits.

"Where'd he go?" Meyers was asking him.

"I'm not certain," Matt admitted. "Check the flights out… I'll check down this way." He started off, aware that Coltraine was still on his heels.

"Did you see Sarah?"

"No," Matt admitted. Catching a flash of Kingsley's presence, he changed directions and headed further down the terminal and through a causeway connecting it to another terminal.

As he emerged from the causeway, he caught sight through a plate-glass window of Kingsley pulling a driver from a car and making off with it.

"There!" he shouted to Coltraine. "Phone Meyers and get an APB out on that car."

"APB?"

"Just do it!" Matt by this time had reached the exterior of the terminal. He flashed his badge while he commandeered a car. Coltraine climbed in with him.

"I'm staying with you so that we can stay in contact with Meyers," he explained when Matt gave him a pained look. As they pulled out to try following the stolen car, Coltraine continued. "Besides… Sarah's my responsibility. I have to find out what happened." He called Meyers again and filled him in on the situation and where they were and where they seemed headed. By this time, darkness was beginning to fall.

-----

Returning to the limo, Burt motioned both Trattori and Cecile to join him as he gave the driver directions.

"Our boy must have been waiting for us. He pulled us in and then made his getaway."

"What about the local poice?" Cecile asked. "Should we contact them?"

Burt shook his head. "And tell them what?" He rubbed his temples as he considered how bad this could get. If the police attempted to stop Kingsley's flight, he had no doubt that more people would die. They needed to catch up to Kingsley and deal with him. He smiled and glanced at Trattori. "Do you have a helicopter?"

-----

Kingsley drove like a maniac through the outskirts of Rome… and around the city until he managed to connect with a secondary road heading south. He was snarling and managing to hiss as his curses sounded in the smoky air of the stolen car.

First there had been an immortal at his destination… requiring him to change his plans. That happened, of course, one had to remain flexible when pursuing one's interests. Regrettable sometimes… but necessary. He was too close to finding Gerard to give up now. He was in no mood for any further disruptions. He'd assumed the immortals at Amalfi might also come to **_Ciampino_**, so he'd made arrangements for an escape just in case.

Locking eyes with his nemesis Matt McCormick had been both a pleasure and a curse. A curse because McCormick knew him. A blessing… because he knew McCormick. Indeed, he'd followed him from one part of the country to another… settling and continuing his little pursuits without his fellow immortal ever catching on. The game was likely up now. But no matter. He was after a much bigger prize than just observing how a mortal and then an immortal healed from similar wounds. He was after the immortal who'd ruined his life. Because of Gerard… he'd had to move on from his first life long before he should have done so. Gerard had refused to train him… teach him… and had turned away in disgust when he'd seen Kingsley's little hobby… a haunted look in his eyes.

"You were that way once," Kingsley muttered now. "You know and were aroused and interested. I saw it in your eyes. You should have joined me… not turned away… and definitely not called the local constable. You ruined it for me. You owe me!" He gripped the steering wheel as he sped down the dark and deserted road. He would not be stopped now! Gerard would be his.

A sputtering noise from the engine caused him to refocus on the here and now. "Damn!" he exploded bitterly. The fuel guage was showing empty. He'd not heard the warning, if it had been given at all. slowly he pulled to the side of the road and growled for a few moments until he saw the headlights of an approaching car. As it too, pulled to the side of the road, Kingsley leered at the reflection in the rearivew mirror. "Still on my trail McCormick? Maybe it's time I finally dealt with you." Grabbing his sword, he stepped out onto the road, carefully shrugging of his coat and flinging it into the seat he'd just vacated. "Warm-up time," he hissed to himself and started toward the figure of McCormick, likewise stepping out of his car.

-----

"Stay inside and lock the doors. If this goes bad, get out of here… fast," McCormick told Ryan. he tossed him his gun. "I won't be needing that," he said. The young Watcher nodded and pushed the auto-lock after McCormick climbed out, sword in hand. Ryan Coltraine swallowed nervously… aware that he was as close to a duel with two combatants as a Watcher could be.

As he watched the two men circle and set themselves for the fight, Ryan noticed the shape of a head in the car ahead. _Hostage? Sarah?_ he wondered. He unlocked the door and, leaving it open, crept out. He paused at the ten foot open space between the two cars. By this time… the fight had started. From what he could see, the two men matched up well and it seemed an even match. Ryan moved ahead to the other car until he could see through the front passenger window.

It _was_ Sarah!

He tapped on the window and tried the door. She looked at him numbly when he tapped. She lowered the window partway and stared at him.

"Unlock the door Sarah," he told her slowly as if she were a child. She did so as he heard the click. He pulled the door open. "Come with me Sarah."

She looked around at the fight, shuddering slightly. "I can't. He'll kill me!"

"Sarah. Come with me. I'll protect you."

She studied him a moment. "Do I know you?"

"I'm…" Ryan paused. Sarah Manning didn't know about the Watchers. "We met in Nashville."

Her yes widened in recognition and her mouth became a small "O". She stepped out of the vehicle. Ryan pulled her to him with a relieved sigh. "You're safe now."

Over the roof of the car he could make out Kingsley and McCormick still fighting… sparks showering them both from the force of their swords on the other's. Ryan wrapped a comforting arm around Sarah. "Let's go." She stumbled along with him and he could fell her continuing shudder. At least she was in one piece. He couldn't believe his luck that she was still alive. Half-way between the two vehicles… he heard a head thump on the ground near his feet and then saw the Quickening erupt. "_Oh shit_!" he thought as he realized that Kingsley had won.

Sarah broke free and turned to run back to the first car. "He'll hurt me if I've moved," she screamed.

Ryan pursued her and pulled her back. "He'll kill you too!" He was determined to get Sarah into the other car and to safety. Finally she stopped fighting him, and sobbed as he pulled her along. The Quickening was beginning to die away as he got her into the car. He shut the door and was racing to get to the driver's side when he realized Kingsley was standing in front of him.

"Shit!" was the last thought he had as a sharp pain pierced his chest and blood pumped out. He was dead by the time he hit the pavement.

-----

Kingsley kicked the mortal's body after it fell… as if to ascertain that he was indeed dead. Then he grinned and got into McCormick's car. He felt great! Better than he had in several months. After climbing in, he leaned over to Sarah and wiped his blade on her face and chest.

"An old lover perhaps? Too bad I didn't have time to give him a proper send-off." He laughed, pleased at his control over her. She just sat. He could tell she was shuddering slightly… but trying not to… or at least trying to keep it under control. He started the car and drove off. He'd turn southeast to Naples the next chance he got. Surely he could find a chart airport in the area and charter a plane. He hummed to himself as he sped up.

-----

From the chopper, things did not look good. Burt ordered it down when he saw the headlights of the abandoned car. The scene that met his eyes when he alighted from the helicopter was every bit as bad as he feared. Both McCormick and Coltraine were dead. Both by sword. Burt took several long deep breaths while he thought and stared down the road. _Where is he going?_

-----


	48. Chapter FortySeven

**Chapter Forty-Seven  
****Glasgow to Italy:**

Along the route from Glasgow to the Chunnel, Methos and Robert barely spoke. Robert kept abreast of news accounts of the catastrophe via the car radio and his PPC. If occasionally his eyes widened and then closed, Methos realized he was anticipating being with Gina again. It looked to the ancient immortal as if things might be all right between those two after all. Their love for one another was genuine, but they'd rushed into a situation they had not completely understood.

Methos chuckled. He supposed he and Eleanor had done that as well. They hadn't honestly understood what would happen… but at least they'd already dealt with many of the issues the unity bond made apparent… especially jealousy. He smiled, recalling Eleanor's response when during one of their occasional journeys they'd met Suzanne Sinclair so long ago. He'd ended up marrying Suzanne… the last of his wives before Alexa. There had been a moment's hurt in Eleanor's eyes; a wan smile and then she'd laughed as if nothing was wrong. As he recalled, she'd known what would happen between him and the lovely Suzanne even before he had. Eleanor had smiled and left, leaving him in Australia and moving back to Paris for the first time since Phillip had taken her away from there after she'd first tried to kill Darius.

He felt again and again a reassuring nod from her now that she was fine, the children were safe, but she was terribly busy. He didn't push. He knew what he needed… that his family was safe for the moment. Now he had to concentrate on getting to them as swiftly as possible.

He and Robert took turns driving straight through the length of Great Britain and luckily had made good time. Once into the Chunnel and then disgorged in France, Robert had called ahead to have his private jet fueled and ready for them when they arrived. It was dark by the time they took off.

"We'll make really good time now," Robert assured Methos. "this flight really doesn't take long. Gina and I fly from home to Rome frequently. I'm considering learning to fly a more long-range plane so that we can get back and forth to our estate in the Caribbean without having to deal with public transport. Really! I'm surprised you don't have your own plane."

Methos chuckled. After this… he might very well look into it. He'd just never really bothered with learning to fly a plane before. Perhaps it was time after all.

When they took off, Robert radioed ahead to Amalfi Field to be certain that they were expected and that Gina and Amanda were there. He indicated he'd need a fast re-fueling.

"From Rome I can make Athens by morning," he assured Methos. "Then, it's just a matter of your friend's charter service."

"Are you certain they'll let us into the area?"

"According to what I read on the news, Athens, though coastal, was essentially spared except for areas around the docks. They're opening the airports for regional assistance. Even if we get sent to a small airport for charter services, we'll be fine. Does your friend know to reserve us a chopper?"

Methos nodded. He'd messaged Phillip via his PPC. He hadn't heard back… but Phillip was fine. He was certain that if he wasn't, Eleanor would have told him. Something was wrong, but she seemed to be dealing with it and helping the local populace. Whatever had happened was something she was burying for the moment until they were together. If he'd pushed her, he had a feeling she'd have focused on a face or a name. but as long as he knew she and the children were safe… he wouldn't push. she'd let him know when she could. He'd made certain his intent to come immediately was known, and he'd felt her relief at that. They were adults… immortals with long lives, most of them, and they could take care of themselves. He'd learned that long ago.

He grinned. It was something MacLeod still worried about… his wanting to take care of all of them and feeling that somehow he was responsible for each of them. His raising as a clam leader had clearly formed much of whom he was. It wasn't that Methos disagreed with it… it was just something he didn't feel responsible for. After all… for most of his life he'd answered only to himself. Watching out for others, caring for others had come later. And even then, he'd understood that in the end… each immortal was responsible for his own life and the way he lived it. While he hoped that most would be saved from the imperative of the game, he understood that it might not be so.

The game still hung over all of them. Until each immortal chose not to participate… those that had chosen not to understood that they still had to protect themselves and fight for their lives. And there was still the worry that one day… they might not have a choice. Methos no longer believed in the game… he wasn't certain he'd ever quite believed it… but he'd accepted it as something he did to survive. His survival had always been paramount in his mind. He still believed it… but he also believed that the survival of the children was important… his two and Grace's unborn child.

He pulled his wallet out and removed a small photograph of the four of them. He laughed. Eleanor always managed to turn her head as the camera lens snapped… even in that instant booth that they'd had this one done in. He ran his thumb lightly over the children's faces as something changing like the wind. The picture was several years old. They took them occasionally, but he never carried a current one, just in case.

"I'm certain they're fine," Robert said cheerily.

"Yes, they are," Methos replied with a sigh and slipped the photo back into his wallet.

"Gina and I had never adopted children before. It just didn't seem right. What made you and Eleanor decide to?"

Methos smiled. "The time was right," he finally said with a shrug. He did not elaborate on the truth of the children's birth… though Robert and Gina might guess it once they were on the island and saw them and Grace. _Step by step_… he thought, … _step by step_.

He pulled out his PPC and checked to see if MacLeod had finally contacted him. He hadn't. Duncan MacLeod was another immortal Methos would have to leave to his own devices. The Highlander was evidently on a mission… and even if it was a mission that Methos found fool-hardy, he did understand it. If MacLeod had promised or initiated a pregnancy for Kate… he likely felt he had to see things through. If so, he'd be in touch when he could.

On the matter of the artifacts, Methos found that he was anxious to pour over them, see them for himself, and examine them tactilely. Eleanor had admitted she'd gathered them without understanding why… but maybe now that they had them in hand again… not just the images of them… something would finally make sense to either of them. He hoped so! He truly did. He wondered just what had finally broken loose… what memory had suddenly made MacLeod understand where to look for them… and in the middle of what was evidently a more pressing search.

He settled back in the darkness of the plane's cabin and closed his eyes. It had been a long day.

-----

An hour later, Robert was turning for a descent and radioing his arrival to Amalfi Field. Methos blinked his eyes, surprised that he'd actually slept.

"You needed it," Robert laughed. "I don't think you really slept last night and you've hardly slept all day."

"I need to get there," Methos said, wiping his hands over his face.

"Well step two down. We're coming in for a landing now.."

Methos nodded. He watched Robert's expert handling of the plane and made a note to himself that maybe he could learn to do this. It had never seemed important before… but now… maybe it was. He felt the rush as the plane began its descent and the sudden sensation of free-flight as it landed and Robert began to brake. It was exciting!

Shortly later, Robert had taxied across the tarmac to the fuel station and the two immortals had alighted and headed for the terminal. Gina met them half-way and threw herself into Robert's arms. The two clenched one another and kissed passionately.

_So far so good_, mused Methos. He continued on toward the terminal, allowing the couple some privacy. Amanda was waiting for him.

"I've checked on the artifacts. I have the routing number and information if there's a problem with them." She smiled, but there was a sadness about her that Methos now thought that he understood. "I take it you didn't find Kate or Alistair?"

Methos shook his head. "MacLeod was going to help them have a child wasn't he?"

Amanda bit her lip and he could the tears sparkling in her eyes. The floodlights were reflected in them. She shrugged. "I guess I didn't understand how badly he wanted this as well. But honestly… I don't know if I could have gone through with it. I still don't."

Methos kissed her forehead. "Not all will be. I wouldn't worry. MacLeod can take care of himself."

"But I should be there with him," Amanda insisted. "I'm not going to Niebos with you." She handed Methos the old laptop computer and the books that had once belonged to Darius as well as the shipping information she had on the artifacts. "I have to find MacLeod. I love him Methos. I want to stand by him as he goes through this. I have to let him know I'm not jealous… that I trust him… that I want him… and I'll love any child of his… even by another woman."

"I think you've made a grand leap, Amanda. You've moved beyond what you want to what he wants."

"I want what's best… for all of us. The children of immortals are important. The more there are… the better the chance that we as a race can survive."

She waited for Gina and Robert to arrive, clearly relieved that the immortal couple was happy and attentive to one another, and then she bid her farewells. She walked resolutely to her red sportscar, climbed in and vanished into the night with a roar of the engine.

Methos had a feeling that Amanda was finally growing up some. He thought he'd miss the irrepressible scamp… but he found he rather liked the responsible woman she'd become in recent years. Finally putting someone else ahead of herself was indeed something to be happy about.

"How long until we're fueled and ready to go," he asked Robert.

"About half an hour. I have to file a flight plan and grab a bite to eat. I'm starved." Again he looked at Gina, still in his embrace and smiled as he kissed her again.

Methos nodded and remained in the Italian night, staring up at the stars and breathing in the warm night air. "I'm coming," he whispered to the night. "I'm coming."

-----

**Niebos:**

It was midnight before Phillip reluctantly returned to the villa. He'd been hard at work overseeing rescue and recovery efforts among his people. Thankfully, the _tsunam_i siren had been sounded in time. It was tied to the NGS earthquake monitoring station and for the most part, his people had responded. Only three were missing, although the hospital was bustling with patients with various injuries. Some weren't serious, but the hospital was safer for them right now while there was still a chance of aftershocks. There'd been six today… each progressively smaller. The onrushing water came ashore with the same awe-inspiring rush… but the wave was not as high as the first one, nor did it reach inland as far.

He bid goodnight to Carl who'd assisted him before heading to his study. He needed to check on things in the outer world. He found Denis and Denara sitting on the divan in the dark… crying.

"Here now, you two," he said genially. "What's the matter?" he stepped toward them and eased himself onto the divan between them… feeling each of the small ones curl up next to him.

"Chou," Denara said and buried her face in his side. Denis began sobbing again.

Phillip understood without being told that Chou had been lost to the _tsunam_i somehow. He stroked the hair of both small ones and said hopefully. "He may yet wash ashore. We may yet get him back."

"But something could happen while he's dead," sobbed Denis.

Phillip said nothing more. He glanced at his computer and sighed. He was needed by others. The correspondence and research could wait. After some time, the small ones slept and Phillip, too, felt the weariness of the day overtake him.

-----

Greg checked in on Grace and John, resting in their room. The couple was curled up on their bed, John behind Grace, holding her. It had been touch and go for a while, but as he stared at the peacefully sleeping face of Grace Chandel, Greg was relieved.

He'd arrived at the villa shortly after getting the message and had instructed Denara to take Marianna inside while he gently examined Grace. "You haven't dilated Grace… I think this is false labor. I want you to try to relax and stay off of your feet. John… stay with her."

Grace had grabbed his hand as well… and so he had stayed, situating himself so that he held her as well. Over the course of the afternoon, her pains had lessened in speed and intensity, even as the crashing waves had lessened. Finally feeling that the danger might have passed, and with Eleanor's return to the villa with the boys, he'd excused himself to get back to the hospital. He knew the nursing staff needed a doctor around. While the retired village doctor could handle most of the injuries, Greg still felt that he was needed there. He'd left, taking Kenny back with him.

The boyman had seemed somber as they'd walked back, and Greg only knew that he'd evidently been with the other boys when Chou had been lost. Greg hadn't waited for additional information, but had felt the need to get back to the hospital once Eleanor was at the villa and Grace and her child were out of danger.

Kenny couldn't speak, he couldn't write, he couldn't even make anyone truly understand what he'd seen and why he'd been there. Nor did he seem to want to. He just seemed resigned to wherever the adults wanted him to be.

"You did well Kenny. Whatever your motives for following the others up to the temple ruins… you did well." From the corner of his eye, Greg noticed lights trailing up the serpentine path. Many of the villagers had started up the path earlier in the day, once their families were safe from harm. The old religion was still strong here. Evidently many feared that their lack of attention to the old gods had stirred them up. Others had gone to the whitewashed Orthodox church once the water receded… and some had done both. To Greg… it was somehow comforting to see mortals turn to the paths their ancestors had trod. To him… it seemed proof of the eternal journey of mankind toward some unknown future.

He threw himself into checking patients once he reached the hospital… and let Kenny tag along. Maybe if they stopped being quite so suspicious of the boyman… he'd see what they were about here. He'd met J. D. and he'd seen Grace. So any secrets they'd feared for him to learn were no longer secrets. What they had to do now was teach him another way… a way that did not involve the game.

Greg Powers realized that he was committed to this course… even as John was committed to helping Carl. _Is it because some part of him resides in me? Some memory? Some knowledge?_ Greg didn't know. He'd never truly sensed anything except the feel of a quickening within the dream. But the image of slicing off Kenny's head while the boy was restrained and unable to defend himself… even if it hadn't been real… remained with him.

"Here," he found himself saying as he helped the boy wrap a sprain under his direction. "You do it like this." Patiently he showed the proper technique and then let Kenny do it himself. The boy grinned winningly at him. _Caution_, he thought. _That's Kenny's way of worming his way in to your confidence_. He'd heard all about Kenny and his exploits from MacLeod and the others. But he had to try. He finally was beginning to understand John's desire to work with Carl. _We're connected in some way_.

Only when he'd double-checked all the patients and sent Kenny off to his room to sleep, did Greg turn in. He stretched out on the couch in his office and slept.

-----

Her mind was still swirling. Although tired and knowing she needed rest above all else, Grace still pondered as she stared at the darkness of their room, her memory of the DNA graphic. The elusive triple helix at the base ofJ. D. and Marianna's DNA, coupled with what had happened today, pressed on her. She'd always liked research and finding the answers, and there was something intriguing and familiar about the way those strands had looked in the graphic model.

Despite John's calming effect and his buoying her during her contractions, it wasn't until Greg had arrived and remained with the two of them, curled up on the surface of the terrace, his head and hands pressed against her in conjunction with John's that she'd felt complete and able to relax. She'd needed them both.

She had a vague memory of Alisaunne curling up next to Eleanor in much the same way when Eleanor had carried J. D. in the early stages. During Marianna's development, Phillip had remained close to Eleanor, as if fearful of letting her out his sight… especially in the final month.

Perhaps the role of the third… the catalyst that allowed the conception of a child between two immortals was far more necessary than they had thought. Without the catalyst's continual presence… the toll on the parents might be too great.

Grace wished she knew more about Alisaunne. After her child was born, Grace needed to go to Paris. Alisaunne had not been the catalyst for J. D., but she'd been able to help. Why? Did it have something to do with Darius or with the ancient immortal Havron, whose Quickening she had inherited? Other immortals could make contributions and help in an emergency. Eleanor's presence when Grace's false labor had begun had been very helpful… buoying her until John and Greg arrived, but she'd promised Methos not to let Eleanor get too involved.

"Go to sleep." John's soft-spoken voice sounded in her ear. He kissed it and his hands moved slightly as he held her.

"How did you know I was awake," she laughed.

"You weren't snoring," came his reply.

Grace so wanted to roll over and face him. "I don't snore!" she protested as she snuggled in his arms.

He snorted and made a buzz-saw sound interspersed with gasps and more snorts. "As if I were deaf. But I love you anyway."

"You're just giving me a hard time."

John laughed. "Maybe… but I know you… and I know how when something intrigues you… you focus on it instead of going to sleep. Whatever it is can wait. Go to sleep!"

Grace stopped protesting. She did need sleep. She had research to do starting tomorrow. She had to stay off of her feet for a few days… but no one had said she couldn't use her computer.

-----

Three mortals dead… one immortal lost… and scores injured. Eleanor lay between her sleeping children as she considered the toll of the day… and how relatively lucky they'd been. Things could have been much worse.

She'd been unwilling to let either child out of her sight this night. She wanted them with her. She wanted to continually reassure herself that they were safe. J. D. moaned and shuddered in his sleep… evidently reliving the nightmare of his day. Eleanor held him close and stroked his hair. He calmed… at least for now. His broken arm with its cast was held out from him.

Greg had mentioned that J. D. was healing quickly… more quickly than a mortal, though not as quickly as an immortal. Had it been a mistake to give her blood to him? But Grace had been fearful he'd reject mortal blood. Eleanor made a mental note to have Grace take additional samples on a regular basis.

Eleanor had always been more hands on. The research side of medicine had never interested her as much as actually helping someone in pain. Even before she'd become immortal… she'd been that way. She'd had some innate sense about healing… but it had taken decades for her to learn all that she needed. After that, she'd tried to learn all she could as the centuries passed. And still she felt inadequate. Others who really focused on healing knew so much more than she did. Greg had been to medical school numerous times… Grace had focused for centuries on research… even Methos with his out-dated doctoring skills sometimes knew more than she did. She had learned from Darius how to watch for a person's pains and how to ease that. It wasn't magic… it was just observation… even he had said so… but sometimes it seemed almost second nature, like something from the depths of her psyche… old memory?

Unable to sleep… but unwilling to chance awakening the children by getting up and strolling through the house as she sometimes did, Eleanor continued to lie awake. She needed to sleep… she'd had little last night, but sleep wouldn't come. Eventually she saw the gray light of dawn creeping in to her room and color begin to return to the world.

-----


	49. Chapter FortyEight

**Chapter Forty-Eight  
****Aboard _The Lady Ambergris II_:**

The group had arrived without incident back at Roebuck Bay just after nightfall. After introductions had been made, most had settled down on the deck for an impromptu meal and some discussion about sleeping arrangements. Derrick had excused himself shortly after their arrival, and gone into the pilothouse where he could be seen by lamplight working on something.

Amber had grown weary of the conversation by midnight and gone below to their cabin. Burke, it seemed had pronounced the perfect arrangement to accommodate the new members of the group. "Sleep outside! I like the stars."

As it turned out, he meant he would sleep outside on deck. Caspar, who usually took the night watch also agreed and the two men gave up their rather cramped cabin to the trio of bikers. Masahiro, who'd already given Cassandra his room, and had been keeping a close eye on her, especially at night, had indicated that he would continue as he was for the moment.

Amber didn't care where anyone slept… she just felt a tingling headache that wouldn't quit. While it was likely more from the strain of the past few days, it might also have to do with the number of immortals present. When she awoke in mid-morning, she could tell that Derrick had never joined her.

After cleaning up, she went topside. Cassandra was at the railing looking morose. Masahiro was nearby. From the tarp stretched over the forecastle, she could hear snoring. Evidently Burke and Wingate were still asleep. A glance at the pilothouse showed her Derrick, still in the pilot's chair… his head nodding slightly, his arms folded across his chest.

From the galley below… Amber could smell food cooking and could hear Michelle and David's laughter. For a moment everything seemed familiar and as it should be. Then she heard Brynn shriek, followed by Sean and Dieter's laughter. Things had changed, and would never be the same again. She blushed, feeling the red creep over her face so quickly that she could feel the heat of it. She'd done something she wasn't proud of. Did everyone know? She glanced around, wondering if the orgy were common knowledge. Her eyes fell on Derrick's dozing form. Surely he knew. That had to be why he'd not come to bed last night… why he was trying to sleep up here. But he'd asked her back! But was he holding himself aloof from her because of what Cassandra had told her about her part in his death? Was he pushing her away?

She finally crossed the deck and took a big breath. "Cassandra?"

The psychic turned toward her, glancing at Masahiro before she finally replied. "Yes?"

"What ya told me… was it the truth?"

"Yes. " Her voice was oddly flat.

"I'll be responsible for Derrick's death?"

Cassandra looked away and Amber could see tears in her eyes. Finally the elder immortal nodded. "Yes."

"Then why did he insist I return?"

Cassandra stared at her for some moments. "He sees you as important somehow."

"Me?" Amber laughed. "I'm just a Boston Irish barmaid who's lived a few hundred years. I'm no' important."

"You are to him, evidently," Cassandra replied.

"And ya disagree?"

"I do. But right now, he won't speak to me… nor listen to what I say."

"And yet ya stay."

Cassandra nodded. "My place is here. Even Derrick knows it. He's angry with me… but he won't send me away when we leave here."

Amber noticed Masahiro curl his lip and growl slightly. She wondered what Cassandra had done that Derrick was so angry with her… that he had her guarded.

Glancing back at the pilothouse, she decided to clear the air. After all, if he didn't want to continue their previous relationship, perhaps she should give up the larger cabin to others. Perhaps, despite it all… she should leave. The last thing she wanted was his death.

Knocking on the closed door, she paused until he glanced up, blinked and waved her in. He shifted in the chair and rubbed his face.

"Ya look tired," she opened.

"Long night," he replied.

Amber leaned against the chart table. "I note ya did not come below last night."

Derrick looked away. "I had things to do. I thought it best for the time being."

"Because of what I did."

Derrick's head shot around sharply at her. His mouth opened and he looked puzzled. Then he seemed to realize something and closed his eyes. Finally he said very softly. "No… because of what I did."

"Ya came for me," Amber furthered.

Derrick's head lowered against his chest. "But I didn't come right away." He sighed and looked away from her, almost seeming embarrassed. In all the time she'd known him… he'd never seemed embarrassed about anything. Finally he looked her in the eye, his own red and tearing. "Ask me why."

Amber straightened, uncertain if she wanted to know why. His guilt about something unnerved her. What could he possibly feel guilty about? She was the one who'd run away. She was the one who'd gotten herself involved in a situation that even she had found uncomfortable. He was the one who'd come for her… taken her back… and somehow made everything right again. What wrong could he do? "Why?" she finally said with a strangled voice.

"I slept with Cassandra."

Amber's stomach lurched and it felt as if a great pressure was in her throat. She hyper-ventilated a moment as she tried to get her mind around that statement. Finally she looked back at him. "You what?"

Derrick nodded. "Some of it was her use of the voice… she sought to distract me from going after you when I first realized you'd gone. But some of it was me… and my seeing that she needed me."

"And now?" Amber cried out and then lowered her voice. "Ya want me to move out of the cabin… tis done."

"No!" Derrick protested and then slumped once more in the chair. "I just didn't want to make assumptions with you until we'd talked. I was the one who behaved badly… I failed you." His voice broke up. "I can't do this! I don't want this! I've never wanted it!" His shoulders began to shake.

Amber stepped closer and softly stroked his cheek as she raised his face to meet hers. She sighed audibly. "Maybe Cassandra is lying."

"She's not. But what she sees in prophecy is colored some by her wants and desires, I think. She wants to be the one standing at my side as I achieve some great destiny. I don't want that! What I want is just to live each day that I have. What I want is what we had."

"But I dinna want to be the cause of yar death. I couldna bear it."

"Maybe that's your destiny… to carry on after I'm dead. Amber I'm a new immortal. I've been well trained, but that cannot make up for the fact that I'm too new at this to be an effective warrior. Besides, although I began to understand what was needed and to relish it some after killing Kobe… I really don't want to go around killing people… not even to save my life."

"Surely ya won't just give up?"

Derrick shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think so… but I don't know. I do know that your being at my side makes the burden easier. But after what I've done… I'd understand it if you never wanted to be with me again."

Amber closed in on him, lightly taking his head in both hands with a smile. "I love ya Derrick Foster. Despite all the warnings and the teachings of my life. I love ya." She kissed him… relishing that he kissed her back hungrily and clutched her waist close to him. After some moments they parted, still leaning their heads together.

"So… shall we go below?" Amber asked.

Derrick sighed and laughed. "Sounds good but I have supplies due here within the hour. There's lots to do before we set sail. I want everything checked and ready to go. The next leg of our journey is a long one." he curled some of her hair about his finger.

"Whar we headed?"

Derrick kissed her eyes and murmured, "India."

"But surely David or Wingate can handle the supplies. Ya need to sleep for just a bit."

He laughed and hugged her tightly, as he stared out onto the deck at Cassandra. "Somehow I don't think it's sleep I'd get if we went below. Besides… I still have to have a talk with Cassandra."

When he said the psychic's name, Amber felt as if a dagger had been plunged into her. "Do ya still want her?" she finally asked.

Derrick did not answer at first… and Amber wondered if he were struggling with how he felt and with what he wanted. "Actually, no," he finally said. "But I have to know what she knows. I didn't want to… but now I think I do."

"About what happens?"

He nodded. "Maybe there is another way to avoid what she sees. If I know what it is she sees… maybe I can prevent it… find another path."

"Other than letting me go."

"Other than letting you go. You are the daystar of my life Kathleen AmberConroy. I knew it the first moment I laid eyes on you. But I have always wanted to let it be your decision. I never wanted you to know."

"And ya forgive me?"

He laughed. "If you forgive me."

"Aye Derrick Foster," she laughed and kissed him again.

-----

By mid-afternoon, the supplies had been delivered and stowed, their destination filed as a matter of course with the Australian Port Authority, and they'd headed out with the tide… the wind filling the sails. Almost immediately, Burke brightened up, as if being once more underway helped lift whatever shadows and ghosts lingered in his mind. Once more he stood with arms stretched wide in the bow and yelled long and low some wordless cry of joy.

Wingate was handling the steering based on the charts while Derrick went below to the mess to have a talk with Cassandra.

He shooed Michelle out of the galley and closed the door so that only he, Masahiro, and Cassandra were privy to the conversation. Amber paced up and down the deck… clearly nervous. She was even more so when Dieter approached her and made some advances as if nothing had changed between them.

"I missed you last night. You should have joined us instead of sleeping alone."

Amber had shaken her head, unable to meet his gaze and aware that Wingate and Michelle were looking at her strangely. "It's not the same here. It was a mistake." She backed away from him. "Ya're nice enough… but it's not the same."

"Brynn says Derrick's yours." Dieter shrugged. "Brynn wants to know. She's kinda interested in him for a lark."

Amber shook her head, feeling trapped and frightened. "She'd have to ask him. As he told you… things are different here."

"Yeah… that's why I was asking." Dieter grinned. "You were a good lay. I enjoyed it." He laughed and made to slap her rear.

Amber grabbed his hand and twisted it. "I said 'No!'" she hissed. "Have ya got that?"

Dieter's eyes flashed and his lip curled. Then just as suddenly the snarl faded and he shrugged. "Fine. But if you change your mind…"

"I won't."

"But if you do… you'll have to do the asking." He backed off angrily, and rejoined his mates at the other rail. Wrapping his arms around Brynn and nuzzling her neck. Amber wondered again if Derrick wasn't completely mad in collecting this group of immortals to travel with. What did he hope to prove? Did he even know? She glanced at the gangway to the galley and wondered what was happening.

-----

His fingers steepled before him, Derrick reclined against the back of the wooden chair and listened as Cassandra spoke. Masahiro, knife drawn and ready, stood close to her… a grim expression in his face. Cassandra had not attempted the voice again. She sensed that even if she managed to control one of them… the other would rob her of her speech… and perhaps her life.

"In India you will find him," she was saying. "One of the older ones. Perhaps older than I am… but not as old as Methos."

Masahiro grunted. "This Methos you speak of is a myth."

Cassandra smiled thinly and said nothing as she watched Derrick's expression, realizing that he did know exactly who Methos was. She saw it in the lack of surprise on his grim face.

"I see the two of you fight. I see Amber's involvement. That is always in flux. But it is her actions that precipitate your death. I sought only to prevent that death."

Derrick sighed heavily. "I want her here," he said plainly. "I don't care about living forever… I only want to make the most of whatever life I have. That's all I've ever wanted. Nothing's changed."

Cassandra looked away and her shoulders sagged. "But if you live… the world for immortals might change. I see…"

Derrick interrupted her with a gesture of his hand. "I don't want to know that. I'm interested only in this fight you see."

Cassandra sighed audibly and then nodded. "He is perhaps Middle Eastern or Indian. He seems to know you. He has been looking for you for centuries."

Derrick laughed. "I'm thirty years old Cassandra. Not thirty centuries… not even three centuries. How can he be looking for me?"

"He has seen you in a vision," she replied sadly. "When he sees you… he will know you."

Masahiro cleared his throat. "If I may Derrick-_sama_. My people believe in the importance of ancestors. We immortals have never had ancestors that we know of. But we come from somewhere. I do not think that we were created from nothing."

Derrick nodded for him to continue, wondering sadly how it was that they'd exchanged positions so that his old mentor thought of Derrick as the master to be followed.

"Perhaps it is not you… but another immortal whose quickening is in you."

"Then it would have been in Kobe… he was my first."

"_Hai_… that is possible. But I doubt it. I believe it is something that has been with you always. Perhaps we do have ancestors… but not in the mortal sense. Have you never dreamed of another life?"

His question was rhetorical… but Derrick started slightly at the words.

"Ah… you have."

Cassandra clutched her hands, looking at them intently. She seemed small and vulnerable without her voice to protect her. Something of the slave she'd been hung about her despite the millennia of her years. Was that why he'd raped her? Was there something in that which she had needed to be reminded of? Despite her haughtiness and despite her strength, her great age and abilities… she was in many ways the woman she had been once upon a time. She glanced up at him without emotion. Derrick could see fear in her submissive gaze.

"You chose to remain on board, Cassandra. Why?" he asked her.

"I want to help. All the paths of my future led here. I see nothing for me if I leave."

"Swear to me by whatever gods you believe in or powers you pray to that you will not use the voice on anyone aboard."

Cassandra nodded.

"Say it aloud."

Her eyes sparked green fire as she stared at him… "I so swear."

"Swear what?" A small smile alit on Derrick's lips.

She laughed and nodded. "I swear I will not use the voice until you give me leave unless to protect my life. Will that work."

"Compromise," he replied.

"Compromise," she agreed. For a moment he saw a flash of the modern Cassandra… the one who'd strode so confidently aboard his ship. She was still there.

At that, Derrick indicated that Masahiro could leave. The Japanese immortal looked at him quizzically but in true _samurai_ fashion, having been given an order by his lord… he obeyed. He bowed toward Derrick. "I shall be nearby," he then warned Cassandra as he left.

Once the door was shut Derrick offered his apology. "I'm truly sorry for what I did."

Looking at him strangely, Cassandra questioned him. "You had reason. You thought I'd betrayed you."

"I hope there will be peace between us."

"Peace? What about love?" she asked plaintively.

Derrick shook his head. "For there to be love or any other sort of intimacy… there must be trust. You will need to earn that again. If at anytime you wish to leave… I will change course and let you off at he closest port. But what happened between us is something that will not happen again. Nor will we ever speak of it again."

"Then peace shall it be," Cassandra said sadly. "For however long you live."

Only then did he dismiss her and wander topside to find Amber. Only then, after making certain of the weather and that they were on course, did he gather her into his arms to retire for a while. And only then… in the privacy of their cabin… did they truly ease away the guilt that each felt and explore the joy of being together… if not for all time… at least for today.

-----


	50. Chapter FortyNine

**Chapter Forty-Nine  
****Greece:**

The easiest way to get to the island, since there was no airfield, and choppers required proofs of intent to assist _tsunami_ victims that Kingsley didn't want to provide, was by boat. He'd made excellent time in his dash through Italy after killing McCormick, and had called ahead about a chartered plane that was ready for him when they arrived. He'd filed his flight plan and had taken off within minutes. Only then did he feel that he had outwitted pursuers and local police one more time. They really were fools! He could go anywhere… but he headed for Athens. His focus was still on finding the immortal Gerard whom he believed was on Niebos.

He managed to rent, at a ridiculously high price, a small sloop at a marina southeast of Athens. They'd had some damage there, but this boat looked to be in good shape, as the cove it was moored in had been sheltered from the waves. It was similar to small sloops he'd sailed by himself centuries ago. _Some things never change_, he thought with a dark grin.

Kingsley secured Sarah in the captain's cabin and concentrated on steering and following the map he'd obtained of the area and the information he'd downloaded and printed regarding Niebos. Although it was on the map… oddly… there was no name over it… or indication that it was inhabited.

Again Kingsley nodded. This place might be exactly what he was searching for. He could prey upon the villagers after he'd dealt with Gerard, whom he suspected of having done much the same over the centuries. After all… he had seen in Gerard a man not unaccustomed to the pleasures of pain. Perhaps he'd engaged in such long before the Europeans ever gave it a name… sadism… named for the Marquis de Sade. He smiled as he considered all the lovely ways he could torture his victims. He'd made quite the study of it over the centuries. And, he chuckled, he even had an immortal now to compare his studies with. He'd not had to hold back with her during the beatings… she'd healed… she'd endured… and she'd become complacent and attentive. Idly he wondered what else he could do to her… or if not her… he could now venture out and hunt other immortals… not to kill… but to torture.

And even if Gerard were not on Niebos? He laughed again. It wouldn't matter. It would become his base of operations as he continued to search for his adversary. He sailed throughout the long afternoon, and as darkness fell, he'd arrived. The island was even smaller than he'd estimated… the wreck of the village from the wave clear to him. He could still see a few people moving among the detritus of their lives. Further up the mountain, he saw lights. Evidently power was still on for some residents. It was toward the lights that he would head. If an immortal lived here… it would not be in the squalor of the village.

Coming along side a massive stone wharf that, while covered with some debris, was essentially as solid as it had been. Kingsley threw a mooring line off to young man and gave him a wave and a "hello" as he secured the sloop.

Going below, he unlocked the captain's cabin and leered at the solemn and unmoving form of Sarah Manning. She'd hadn't moved since he'd thrust her in here hours ago. She stared at her hands curled on her lap. For a moment he considered finding fault with something to have some fun… but recalling his real purpose here, he grabbed her to her feet and pushed her ahead of him out the door. He'd even considered kiling her or leaving her in the sloop… but had decided he might need her to distract Adams. He'd deal with Adams later.

"Up top my dear… the game's afoot and we've an immortal to hunt." She stumbled slightly and he kicked her. She cringed and apologized… but she also speeded up. On deck she looked around at the darkening island, the shape of its dormant volcano still sharp against the growing darkness. Kingsley grinned and pulled a coat around her shoulders… a coat that held a familiar weight. Sarah's eyes widened.

"Don't get any ideas, my dear. If you try anything… anything at all… you will know an eternity of pain. Death I will deny you until you've gone utterly mad. Do I make myself clear?"

Sarah nodded.

"Good. You are my backup weapon if for some reason I need it. Once I've challenged Gerard… you are free to do as you wish."

Sarah nodded again.

"Now then… let's go." Ever so politely, as he'd been doing whenever others might see, he took her arm, held her close, and steered her where he wished her to go.

Sarah didn't argue. He'd held out hope for her freedom. Inwardly she prayed that this Gerard person was here. If he was… then she was free. She was finally free once more. She had not dared to hope for freedom… so certain had she been of her death. She was at this point more fearful of being beaten again than in death itself. For death would be a release from this hell she'd landed in. She'd lived a life on the edge… most of her existence… and she'd dared the fates to ever collect on her excesses. Well Kingsley had bought up her debts and made her pay… oh yes… he'd made her pay. Sarah made no struggle against him… in fact she was eager and hopeful that Ben Adams would be here as well, and that he would deal summarily with Kingsley for his treatment of her.

Sarah could barely recall what gentleness was like. But she had the sense that nothing would ever compare to what she'd lived through. Ben would be gentle with her. He would love her. He would hold her gently during the night and whisper soft words in her ear. Of this she was certain. She had to be.

Kingsley threaded his way through people still working to collect debris and deal with mud. Most had evidently stopped as darkness had fallen. He aked about some friends he thought were here and dropped the names Gerard and Adams. The two men he approached indicated they knew no one by those names but that he might ask elsewhere.

Elsewhere was what he intended. The floodlights surrounding one of the buildings he had made out on the mountain's slope drew him ever upward. As he reached the building, he began to sense an immortal. His grip on Sarah's arm tightened until she almost gasped. Then she moaned as she felt the inevitable snap. "Just to keep you under control, my dear. Remember that." Then he dragged her on so that what might have been a simple fracture was twisted and she could feel the sharp end of the bone pierce the surrounding muscle tissue. Her knees gave way. When she fell… he dragged her to her feet by the same arm. Sarah began to weep… and deep inside of her a small hot kernel of hate and retribution began to grow.

As he reached the building, it became clear that it was a hospital. Kingsley pulled her harder. "Perfect," he hissed "I'm bringing you in to be seen. We had an accident on the boat. Understand?"

Sarah bit her lip. The arm would have healed fairly quickly if it had been a straight break… but twisted as it was… would take longer… maybe long enough for a doctor to set it. She made no protest.

Within the flouescent-lit reception area they paused among the crowd of people sitting in chairs. Sarah looked around for the souce of immortality, finding it in the face of a child. Tow-headed, about ten years old, he stared across the room at them both. In his hands was some water for someone. He turned and gave it to an elderly woman and then took off running.

Kingsley hissed and took off after him leaving Sarah alone among watching eyes. A few moments later she felt another immortal and turned sharply at the approach. The slight, dark-haired man with a goatee eyed her curiously. He motioned her to approach and Sarah did so. He winced when he saw her arm.

"That looks bad."

Sarah nodded. "It'll heal."

He gestured for her to follow him. "I don't want to treat you out here… come on." He pushed open a door and held it for her. She followed. On the far side of the door she felt a sudden wave of immortality as if there were a dozen or more here. She trembled and shook her head. "No… no" as she tried to back up.

"It's all right. No one will hurt you," the immortal said. "Here… sit down out here in the hall in this waiting area. I'll treat you here. I'm Dr. Powers."

Sarah hesitantly sat in the chair while Powers took a good look at her arm.

"This is going to hurt, I fear. No help for it… I have to push the bone back into place. Ready?"

Sarah nodded, and was surprised that the pain was somehow a welcome thing… it felt good in that now she could sense the healing was ready to start. Powers turned and pulled some large sterile gauze pads from a tray and ripped them open. He smiled. "To wipe away the blood." Gently he began to cleanse her arm.

Sarah suddenly began crying … but whether from pain or in relief… she wasn't certain. Besides… Kingsley was still out there… chasing a ten-year-old boy. If there was one thing Sarah knew… Kingsley would be back for her.

-----

Without a sword, and true to form, Kenny's first reaction when seeing a strange immortal was to run. He sensed the male following him as he raced down the corridor and out a side door. He headed across the dimly lit path toward the villa, where he knew most of the other's were. Part of it was self-preservation, and part of it stemmed from a desire to let the others know.

Stumbling onto the veranda, Kenny ran straight into Eleanor.

"Kenny? What's wrong?" she asked him.

Kenny frantically pointed back the way he'd come. Already he could hear the male immortal approaching. The boy tried to explain that there were two of them… thrusting his fingers at Eleanor's face and pointing at the hospital.

As the male stumbled forward, sword in hand, he pulled up when he saw and felt Eleanor. He tilted his head as he considered the situation. Then he saw Carl step forward. The man laughed aloud. "What is this… the Immortal **Brady Bunch **around here?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" Eleanor asked.

Kenny turned to face the man, feeling Eleanor's hands protectively on his shoulders. He smirked back at the male, knowing he was probably sizing her up as an easy target. Kenny hadn't seen her in action… at least not in combat… but he felt that she might distract the male long enough for him to hide. Besides… with both Eleanor and Carl facing the stranger, Kenny doubted he'd be in any real danger. The black immortal was both tall and muscular. Of all the immortals that Kenny had seen, he was the only one who openly wore a sword.

"Martin Kingsley," the newcomer bowed. "I'm looking for an old friend… Gerard."

Kenny felt one of Eleanor's hands clench on his shoulder. Evidently she knew who this Gerard was. Moments later the boy saw and felt the Swordmaster's approach. He smiled to himself. Maybe this stranger would deal with Phillip as Kenny wished that he could.

"Martin," Phillip said simply.

"This is marvelous!" Kingsley laughed. "I've searched for you for so very long. Do you have any idea how hard you are to find? A private island. I should have thought of that." He turned and glanced back at the village below. "I shall enjoy myself here."

"Oh?" replied Phillip with a slight smile. "Do you think that I would allow you to remain? In fact… do you think that I would allow you to _live_?"

Kingsley laughed merrily. "Oh Gerard… you didn't kill me then… and you had good reason. You won't kill me now. I've learned so much in the last few centuries. But pleasantries aside… I think you and I should discuss our… arrangements?"

Phillip glanced about, obviously considering the situation. "Very well… but not here."

"Why not here?" Kingsley laid his sword lightly on his shoulder as he strutted back and forth.

"There are mortals here. Our meetings are not for mortal eyes… you _know_ that."

Kingsley paused and nodded as if he understood the implication in Phillip's words. "Very well… where do you suggest?"

Phillip pointed toward the mountaintop. "Fifteen minutes. I'll meet you on top."

"That's holy ground," spat Kingsley. "I saw the picture on the website."

Phillip shook his head. "No… it's not."

Shrugging, Kingsley seemed to consider the suggestion. "Isolated… perhaps it would work. How do I get there?"

Grinning, Phillip replied. "You climb the Pilgrim's Path." He pointed in the direction of where the path snaked its way up the mountain. "You go on… I will be along shortly."

"It's dark."

Phillip shrugged. "I know. But that's where we'll go. No one is up there now. I'll give you fifteen minutes to be on your way. I'll follow behind. That should give you a chance to check out the lay of the land and be ready for me when I arrive."

"Always such a gentleman," taunted Kingsley as he bowed again; this time sweeping low and gesturing with his sword. Then he straightened. "And when we're done my old friend, I look forward to getting to know _you_ better," he said to Eleanor. Then he turned and headed into the darkness toward the path which shown dimly in the moonlight.

-----

Phillip pivoted swiftly and went inside to his study. He opened his safe and pulled a sheaf of papers out and handed them to Eleanor. "In case this goes wrong… be prepared. I've signed over everything to you."

"Is he that good?" she asked worriedly.

"I don't know. I let him live when I first met him as he was young and inexperienced. I'd hoped he'd grow and learn and change." Phillip gazed down at Kenny and put one hand on his shoulder. "Just as I let you live. Did you ever wonder why?"

Kenny nodded.

"I might have been you. But for the intervention of another immortal in my young life… I might well have died as a child. Considering the angry and confused man that I was and some of my associations at the time… I might have been as treacherous and duplicitous an immortal as you've been." He chuckled. "I've always had a soft spot for you small ones. I keep hoping that with fair treatment and the hand of friendship… you'd learn. Some never do."

He kissed Eleanor's cheek. "Tell Marianna I love her." He turned to see Denis and Denara standing in the doorway looking worried. Denara ran to him and he lifted her up. "Don't cry small one. I have no intention of sacrificing myself… but it's been a long time since I seriously fought a challenge… a long time." He glanced at Eleanor. "Long before I met you. Remind me to tell you some day."

She nodded, fighting back tears.

He hugged Denara and then set her down. "Look after her Denis." Pulling his short sword from the safe, he buckled the scabbard about his waist and giving them all a small wave, he raced outside. The two small ones followed him out onto the terrace and stood watching him make his way up the slope. Phillip knew every rock and cranny of this island… even in the dark. He'd climbed that path in daylight and in the dark of the moon… in good weather and in foul. He knew where he could cut across… and he knew that he could climb it in five minutes and not be winded. He focused on the climb. If he'd timed it right, Kingsley would just reach the summit and be winded when he arrived. Phillip would still have the advantage of the terrain.

-----

Almost as soon as Phillip left, Eleanor heard Grace cry out from her and John's room. She rounded on Carl. "Get Greg… now!"

The big man nodded and took off toward the hospital.

Kenny tugged at her shoulder and tried again to remind her that there was another immortal at the hospital.

"Carl!" she called out. He stopped and looked back. "Be careful… I think there must be a second one."

He gave a small salute… barely a tip of an imaginary hat and went on.

"You did well Kenny," she told the boy putting her hands on his shoulders and gazing into his eyes as if seeking lies there.

Kenny nodded and closed in to wrap his arms about her waist and lay his head against her chest so that she could stroke his hair. He could play nice for now. Behind her he eyed the still-open safe and wondered if there was another sword in there. Perhaps if Eleanor ran upstairs to check on Grace, he could manage a look.

As if reading a part of his mind… Eleanor stepped back and smiled. "I need to check on Grace." She left and Kenny eyed the safe.

-----

Carl raced into the hospital, quickly sensing Greg's position. He thundered down the hallway and pushed open the doors.

Greg was on a low stool working on another immortal's arm.

Carl pointed at Greg, then back at the villa and tried to say Grace's name. Only a garbled sound emanated from his mouth. He shook his head violently and patted his stomach and then made a curved motion… it was the same way he'd made Greg understand yesterday.

The doctor's eyes widened. "Grace?" he asked.

Carl nodded.

Greg turned to the woman. "I have to go now. Carl will look after you." He rose. "Keep an eye on her. The immortal she's with has been torturing her." Then he was gone.

Carl turned and eyed the female grimly. He folded his arms as he stood over her. She looked up at him without fear and then gazed down the corridor from which the booming _thrum_ of the comatose immortals on the ward emanated.

-----

Arriving at a dead run at the summit… Phillip felt Kingsley's presence near the center of the ruins. He could just make him out in the sliver of moonlight. Kingsley was bent over his knees and breathing heavily.

'You cheated," Kingsly gasped as he lifted his sword. "I knew you would!"

Drawing his shortsword and holding it easily at his side, Phillip laughed. "I left fifteen minutes after you did. Can I help it if you're a slow climber?"

"Why did you ruin my life? I saw in your eyes that you, too, understood my hobby."

Phillip nodded as he moved to a better position, with the sliver of moon behind him. "You think what you did then was evil?" He laughed. "I've seen the face of evil. I know it can be seductive. But I turned from that long before you ever were. I ruined your existence in that time and place to save the lives of the innocent. I let you live so that you might learn from what happened. Evidently… you chose not to learn."

"And now you think to kill me?" laughed Kingsley. "I've been very busy. Shall I tell you how many men, women and children I've tortured? Shall I tell you what I plan for your woman? Such a little thing. And that boy? And anyone else!"

Kingsley suddenly rushed at Phillip swinging his sword in a downward slice. Phillip easily avoided the slice and rammed his Grecian shortsword into Kingsley's side as he passed and withdrew it swiftly. Blood pumped from the younger immortal's side. He pressed a hand against it and circled slowly, shaking his head as if to ward off the dizziness from loss of blood.

"That hurts."

Phillip nodded. "I know." He stepped lightly away… keeping his eyes on this upstart. "Didn't you ever investigate how things hurt by trying them on yourself? Or was it only the inflicting of pain on others that interested you?"

"It will heal," Kingsley insisted.

"If I give you time," Phillip replied darkly. No one would ever again suffer because of what he'd done or not done in his past. He'd sworn to Valeraine's form for the last twelve years. He had much to answer for in his past… even the times he'd shown mercy to those who didn't deserve it. "Did I tell you then… if you ever raised a sword at me again… it would be the last time?"

Kingsley continued to hold his side, breathing raggedly. Evidently Phillip's stroke had nicked a lung as blood sprayed about his nose and mouth. Yet already it was better. He pretended it wasn't as he watched his opponent… waiting for an opening… waiting for that moment when Gerard would be too over-confident and then Kingsley would strike. "Yes… and it will be."

Phillip nodded. "So be it." He moved to one side and dropped his guard. Kingsley pounced.

-----


	51. Chapter Fifty

**Chapter Fifty**

Sarah shivered slightly in the chair as she stared at the very severe expression on the black man's face. She even didn't feel like trying to seduce him. She was still too worried that Kingsley would return, although this immortal looked as though he could take him. She stared at his sword and then looked back down the hall.

"Who's down that way?" she asked.

The man shook his head as he leaned against the wall, watching her.

"Let's see. There was the boy, the doctor and you. How many others are there? Is this Gerard that Kingsley is looking for even here?"

Still the man said nothing. Sarah carefully straightened her arm, wincing at the minor pain she still felt, but it was coming along nicely once the doctor had set it. She made a fist. "Is Ben here? Benjamin Adams?"

The man shrugged slightly and Sarah didn't know if he didn't know the name or perhaps didn't know whom she meant. She wracked her mind for the other name. "How about Adam Pierson?"

The man looked at her thoughtfully. Perhaps he knew that name. Still he said nothing.

Sarah smiled easily at him, trying to move seductively as she so often had, and finding that she feared that Kingsley would see her. Nevertheless she managed to stretch her legs out and lick her lips.

The immortal laughed as if he found her contemptible. Whatever else he might have done was lost as a cry went up in the lobby. He turned to see about it and then pushed through the door to see what was going on. As soon as he left, Sarah leaped to her feet and eased down the corridor until she knew the powerful presence of immortals was just beyond the door. She peeked through the window and saw a nurse at a desk, knitting, and several occupied beds in a ward. Gently she pushed the door open.

The nurse looked up at her, saying something in Greek. Sarah gestured that she didn't understand and pushed further into the ward. She froze. There were nearly two dozen occupied beds… all with immortals… sleeping. Curiously she came further in until she stood over the bed of a man of about thirty-five. He was thin… but alive… but he did not respond to her presence. Sarah glanced at the rest of the beds, passing between them as her horror grew. What had happened to them? Who had done this? Were they kept somehow and then used by this Gerard person in some game within the game? Did he keep them and then kill them when he needed a boost in power? Did Ben even know about this place?

Sarah became more and more frantic as she passed among the beds, even stopping to pull at a woman's shoulders. "Wake up!" Feeling a change in the room, she glanced up to see her guard return and stare at her with worry. The nurse stood and said something. The man gestured her to leave. All the while Sarah tried to awaken even one of these immortals.

As the man came closer, Sarah drew her sword and held it before her with both hands. "Don't come any closer! You are not doing this to me! This is unnatural! It's wrong and it's sick!"

The man spread his hands and arms out as he closed in on her. Still he said nothing.

Sarah panicked! She needed to keep him from turning her into a zombie or whatever these immortals were! She'd had enough of being a victim! No more! Angrily she twisted and held her sword above the woman on her right. "Stay back! Don't come any closer!"

The male immortal stopped… a fearful expression on his face. He shook his head at her and stepped closer as if to grab her sword.

Sarah kicked out at him, her left foot connecting solidly in his groin. He bent over with an "Oooof" and stepped back. At the same time, she lost her balance and half-fell… half lunged toward the sleeping woman. Sarah twisted to avoid hitting her, and then thought… _What the hell!_

She grasped her sword hilt with both hands and swung. At first the only thing that happened was that the head rolled loose from the neck. The male made a strangled sound as if in great pain. Sarah waited. She pulled back from the body in confusion… she could feel the quickening still there, but it seemed inert.

Then a slow wisp of blue-white mist began to curl outward from the neck very slowly. It circled around and around like a small whirlwind as it attempted to gain power and speed. As it rose, it seemed like a cyclone , its base at her severed neck… the funnel reaching to the sky. The whole thing whipped faster and faster. Even the hair on Sarah's head was blown back… she even stumbled in the face of the wind that hit her as she tried to steady herself and await the power that was now hers.

Lightning crackled through the vortex and she could smell ozone on the air. Her attacker had stepped back, his face still reflecting horror… but he'd drawn his own sword now. Sarah realized that she'd likely be incapacitated for bit after taking the Quickening. She'd have to be prepared for his attack. Or should she attempt to deal with him now… before the other took her… maybe she could maneuver him into the path of it so that he'd be the one caught by it. Then she could deal with him easily while he was down.

She tried to circle around him… but he'd recovered and straightened. He looked at her oddly and then glanced at the vortex of raw power as it began to blow anything that wasn't nailed down about in its storm winds. Still it had made no attempt to go for either of them.

She sliced forward with all the power she had and he blocked… his muscles bulging. He parried and the force on her sword made her hands tremble. At least she'd go down fighting! She would not be like these others! She would fight. All the rage of the past few weeks roared out of her now as she turned her frustration and pain at Ben's refusal to sleep with her, his denial of their love, his vanishing act, and then Kingsley's treatment of her. It was Ben she blamed! It was all his fault! He should have been her teacher! He should have been her lover! He should never have left her! As she considered each of his faults she struck again and again.

The sound from the quickening had become a roar like a freight train. She found it hard to maintain her balance… as did her opponent. The lightning began to arc about the room… causing electrical equipment to light up and explode. The vortex spiraled outward until it was spread across the ceiling like a galxy as seen through a telescope.

Sarah was stunned… and so apparently was her opponent. Both stopped fighting to gaze in wonder at the vortex. Then it struck. Not Sarah, not her opponent… but those who lay as though dead… silent and unconscious on the beds of the ward.

Thick tendrils of power raced into the sleepers… slamming into their chests and causing them to shake violently. Then they seemed to lift into the air… hovering just above the beds' surface. Blue-white light flickered and pulsed about them. Then excess power shot through a few of them, slamming into the two immortals.

Sarah felt as if she were immersed in fire and that her flesh was being melted away from her bones. Never had she experienced anything this powerful. And then the images began… flittering through her mind faster and faster… as did words in languages she'd never heard. Faster and faster the visions of immortals participating in the game over and over… each time killing their opponent and standing in triumph as the loser's power became part of them. She was lost in antiquity and then thrust into the American West she recalled from her own life. She was _samurai_… on the field of battle. She was a crusader on a holy quest. She was an African tribesman seeking answers. Sarah screamed! Her sword dropped unbeknownst from her fingers as she fell to her knees and held her head. And still the images roared in increasing speed through her.

The power crackled through her… electrifying every nerve and muscle so that she twitched and lurched on her knees. As it finally began to ease… she was surprised that the male immortal was also screaming… his bass voice was in counterpoint to hers. Then the power at last ended. She leaned on her hands and gulped the hot, ozone-laden air as if it were a fresh spring breeze. Slowly she crawled towards her sword and grasped it as she attempted to stand. It took her three times before she regained her feet. She turned toward him, still on his knees gulping in terror and crying. She raised the sword… knowing that she didn't really feel like taking another one so soon… but still fearful of what he'd do to her once he recovered.

With a cry she stepped toward him… her sword raised. He stared up at her and then behind her with a look of surprise. Sarah turned and stumbled as she dropped her arm.

The immortals had risen… thin, wan, and pale, they looked about and focused on her. Rising from their beds they began to crowd around her… moving stiffly… like actors in some zombie movie. Several lifted arms as they closed in on her.

"Noooooooo!" she screamed and prepared to strike.

Her opponent grabbed her arms. "No! Wait!" Then his face relaxed in a surprise. "I can talk," he said with wonder.

But his words meant nothing to Sarah, who was still screaming as multiple hands touched her.

-----

Having spent the day in bed, Grace was beginning to get restless. John had remained with her all day, being spelled occasionally when Greg had stopped over from the hospital. Eleanor had also checked on her several times. Things seemed much quieter and she was anxious to be up and about. She wanted to work on her research. Now that she had some sort of idea of what to focus on, she wanted to pursue it before the thoughts in her mind evaporated. Again and again she tried to recal why that DNA pattern in the children looked so familiar.

Her eyes closed as she considered it… she was suddenly aware of another contraction… a big one. Then she felt the warm stickiness flow over her legs immediately afterward. She screamed in denial. It was too soon for this child by several weeks. Moaning… she tried to deny that the birth was imminent.

John pulled her to him as he tried to support her. His arms slipped around from behind her and encircled her protruding abdomen. "Shhh!" he whispered. "I have you know… just calm down."

Moments later Eleanor arrived at the open door, her face pale and her expression worried. "I sent Carl to get Greg." Approaching the bed she assessed the situation. "I need to put down some fresh linens so that she'll be more comforatbly." She worked around the pair, removing the soaked bedlinens and laying down several layers of clean ones. She tried also to get Grace to relax enough so that she could examine her. But Grace was fighting this and fighting them.

By then, Greg arrived. He too looked frantic. His presence finally seemed to calm Grace enough so that she allowed him to check her out. "You're fully dilated. This baby is coming tonight," he finally told her.

Grace wept. "No! Not tonight!"

"Babies come in their own good time," John assured her, but his glance at Greg and Eleanor showed how worried he was.

Eleanor said nothing. Alisaunne had developed and been safely born in a matter of hours with Darius' intervention… but the other two had gone full-term. This child was close enough to term that it ought to be all right. But she didn't know for certain. She moved some supplies they'd placed in Grace and John's room in anticipation of this birth closer to the bed so that she or Greg would have them at hand if needed.

Grace was manuevered into a sitting position with John still behind her, his back against the headboard. Her legs were separated and her knees were drawn up so that Greg could monitor the baby's progress and still be close enough to assist her.

Eleanor stood back. She felt torn between worrying about Phillip and Kingsley as well as the other immortal at the hospital. But this was neither the time or the place to mention what else was happening on the island. Grace and the others needed to focus on this child trying to force her way into the world before her time. She sensed Methos responding to her worried state and pushed it down. He was coming… he was close, but he couldn't do anything until he arrived. There was no reason to worry him about situations that might not be problems once he did arrive.

She'd told Denis and Denara to keep an eye on J. D. and Marianna while she was busy up here with the others. Jayne was about as well, and she'd keep Watch. The young Watcher had been settling well into her duties here, after Douglas Monaghan had left, although she'd not been happy when Methos had left the island without her.

"Your place is here now," Eleanor had assured her. "Methos won't be long."

Of course, one day had turned into a week… and then several weeks, and Jayne stewed and worried that something would happen without a Watcher with him to choronicle it all. Even after being assured that a Watcher was with him, at least part of the time, and that nothing was happening, and that nowhe was on his way back… Jayne was still concerned. The last Eleanor had seen her, she was pacing about the villa, muttering to herself.

Grace moaned again and lurched in the men's arms. She thrust her arms out as if to fend them off… as if they were attacking her. Eleanor vaguely recalled giving Methos a momentary black eye during Marianna's delivery. She understood Grace's reactions to what was happening… and fretted a little that she'd promised not to be overly involved in the delivery. She met John's worried glance with a reassuring smile and a wink, hoping he'd understand that this all was pretty normal behavior even for mortal women in labor.

"Breathe Grace… focuss on the pain and breathe with it," Greg was saying. "Don't push yet." He examined her again. "I think I see dark hair," he grinned. "She's crowning."

"I can feel that!" snapped Grace and then she pushed. If the baby was crowning, it was time. Eleanor held her breath and clenched her fists. Meanwhile, through the windows of the French doors, she could see Quickening erupting on the mountain-top, and from the hospital.

-----

The swift turn-around in Athens had not happened.

When Robert had landed at the private airfield where Phillip kept several helicopters for rent, he and Methos discovered that all the vehicles were currently in service.

"The disaster has created a real demand for them," the desk clerk had explained. "I have nothing here about saving one for your use."

Methos had turned the terminal to face him, despite the clerk's objections and cursed repeatedly. Evidently Phillip hadn't gotten his message and confirmed his need to reserve one. He began to be even more concerned about what was happening on the island.

"I want the next one that comes in," Methos growled at the young man. "Else you will be looking for another position… I promise you that!"

The clerk blanched under Methos' deadly glare, seeing in it the danger such a man might pose if truly riled up. The young man immediately began searching for any helicopter available with any of the services. It was all day, however, before one turned up as all were in use.

Robert signed the forms and showed his pilot's license. Again, Methos considered it might be time to learn to pilot one of these himself. It was just that he hated having licenses that could be easily researched.

It was nearly dusk by the time they left and full dark by the time Robert indicated that instruments showed that they were coming up on Niebos' location. Methos kept feeling Eleanor's tension. She'd seemed fine most of the day, but a short while ago… her walls had gone up. She was shielding him from something yet leaking through her mental blocks were her concern for Phillip and for Grace. He wasn't getting it clearly… and trying to break through right now wasn't a good idea. They were close… and he might need all of his strength and all of his cunning if there was something truly wrong.

"Gnashing your teeth won't get us there any sooner," Robert laughed. He seemed in much better spirits since Gina had joined them. Gina sat beside him and from behind, Methos saw them holding hands, their fingers flickering in increasing speed over each other's hands. There had been no further outbursts or arguments and accusations by either of the couple. That bode well. But observing their burgeoning relationship and the raw sexuality of their touch on one another, made Methos sulk in the back, anxious to get home.

Off to the left in the darkness, it was as if fireworks had gone off. The helicopter bucked slightly in the shock-wave. Methos leaned forward to observe the Quickening evidently being released atop Mt. Niebos. A great deal of power was being released. It looked much like several Roman candles going off… followed by some freak electrical storm.

"Who do you think just died?" Gina asked.

Methos shook his head. "I don't know." He wondered if two of the island's immortal inhabitants had argued… and if so… which two? He shuddered, recalling that Mt. Niebos was an extinct volcano… but what would a Quickening do if released on it. While he knew that Phillip did not consider the temple ruins holy ground… perhaps it had been once. The helicopter continued to buck in the subsequent shock waves as Robert circled around… looking for a place to set down.

Methos tried to direct him toward where he knew the small level clearing that Phillip had set up for emergencies was located near the hospital. They were just setting down when another Quickening erupted from the wing of the hospital.

"Good Lord… is this place safe?" Robert fearfully asked. "Has everyone gone crazy?"

"Hurry up and land," ordered Methos. His sword was already drawn. He was anxious to get out.

Robert settled onto the landing area even as the ancient opened the door to step out.

"Watch your head!" Robert shouted and pointed at the overhead rotors. Methos nodded. Now he remembered why he hated these things. He didn't like being so close to whirling metal blades. "I'm headed to the villa! I have to check on the children and Eleanor first!" he shouted back.

"We'll check the hospital!" Robert agreed. "What about the mountain?" He gestured to where the lightning was dying away.

"Whatever happened… it's over. We'll deal with it later. The two of you make certain the immortals in the ward are all right." Then he was off. He crouched until he was out of range of the blades and then raced toward the villa.

Arriving at the terrace, he paused, sensing immortals and pre-immortals alike. J. D. and Marianna were at the balustrade staring at the hospital. Seeing their father, they both ran to him.

"Daddy!" shouted Marianna as he lifted her up and crushed her in his arms. J. D. gave him an awkward hug. Methos held them both tightly… aware that nearby he saw Denis and Denara.

"What's happening?" he asked the two small immortals.

Denis shook his head and Mnethos could tell the boy had been crying.

Marianna tugged on his earlobe. "Daddy. Opa went to the mountain."

"Phillip?" Methos felt as if a great boulder had lodged in his throat.

"It was some old enemy who landed here earlier," Denara added.

"Phillip told us good-bye and took his sword with him," J. D. explained.

"Where's your mother?"

Marianna pointed upstairs. "Grace is having her baby."

Methos looked for corraboration in the faces of the others. He glanced at the hospital. "Who's at the hospital Denis?"

The small immortal shrugged. "Carl went to get Greg. He got here before it happened. I think the immortal had someone with him."

Denara nodded.

At a movement in the shadows of the house, and the feel of another immortal, Methos looked up sharply to see Kenny. _Kenny_? He'd known that Eleanor had been focused quite a bit on Kenny since he'd left here, but hadn't realized that the boyman had awakened.

"Do you know what's going on," he said sharply.

Kenny smirked and shrugged.

"Say something!" he growled as Kenny chuckled silently, evidently highly amused.

"Dad… it's okay. Kenny's a friend. He saved my life and Denis's too," J. D. said, tugging at his father's arm. "Even Mom agreed. If not for him… the wave would have gotten all of us… not just…" His voice broke up. "Chou," he finally got out.

Methos looked around sharply as only now it was coming to him that Chou was not here. For decades… where one boy was… so too was the other. They'd been an inseparable pair. He met Denis' gaze. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly, uncertain what else to say. "I need to check on your mother," he told J. D. "Watch your sister." To Denis and Denara he added, "If anyone comes up that path that you don't know, get everyone inside."

He passed Jayne on the way in. "You're back," she said with relief.

Methos nodded, "Watch the small ones… especially Kenny." He squeezed her arm in reassurance and then bounded up the stairs towards Grace and John's room. Already he could hear Grace screaming.

At the door, he paused, Greg was in the process of delivering Grace's baby while Eleanor stood by to help. He waited at the doorway, unwilling to interrupt as it looked like everything was proceeding normally. Eleanor glanced at him with a smile and then leaned forward as Greg lifted the baby and laid it in her arms. She wiped the baby.

"What's wrong with her," Grace asked. "She's not crying.

Methos held his breath. The baby was turning blue and did not appear to be breathing. Eleanor wrapped her in a warm blanket, then suctioned her mouth before gently blowing into the small creature. Greg continued working on an increasingly frantic Grace. Finally a cry emanated from the small bundle and Methos could see she was pinking up well. Eleanor laid her in Grace's arms.

"Look at her," Grace said with a smile. "She's perfect."

"She's a miracle," John added, the wonder of this moment clearly evident on his cragged face. He gently caressed the baby's face.

Greg paused what he was doing and chuckled merrily. He took one of the baby's small hands in his, watching the fingers curl around one of his and he gasped as the baby began to draw strength from him. "What shall we name her?"

Grace held her close to her. "Hope," she replied.

"Hope is perfect, for that's what she is," nodded John.

"I like that, Hope the daughter of Grace," Greg nodded as he withdrew his hand to finish up with the post partum procedure.

Eleanor backed away from them as she was no longer needed and felt Methos' arm slip about her and hug her tightly. She chuckled. "Brings back memories."

Methos nodded. "It does indeed." His voice changed tone and he whispered for her to come into the hall. Once there he pulled the door closed and kissed her fervently. "I was getting frantic with you worrying and not telling me what all was happening."

"I didn't want you fretting about not being here. There was nothing you could do." She pulled back. "Phillip. He's gone to the mountain. He was challenged by some immortal named Kingsely."

"Martin Kingsley?" Methos groaned.

"I think so. He knew Phillip as Gerard and Phillip knew him. He wouldn't tell me what it was about. He said he didn't have time."

Methos shook his head. "Kingsley was a rather twisted man even before he became immortal. He wanted Phillip to teach him. Phillip refused and even contacted the mortal authorities about Kingsley's activities."

"Why didn't he just kill him?"

"He hoped Kingsley would grow and learn. You know he hasn't taken a head since before you were born."

"That long?" Eleanor breathed out forcefully. "He seemed worried about the challenge. I have to…"

"You will do nothing," Methos replied sharply, his hands holding her arms tightly. "I… will deal with this if it went badly. What about the hospital?"

"I don't know. I sent Carl for Greg… but I don't know. Kenny mentioned there being a second immortal."

"Robert and Gina headed over there from the helicopter. Stay in the villa… and arm yourselves." He kissed her again as he headed back down the stairs and out onto the veranda. As of yet, there was no sign of anyone else approaching the house. Since the hospital was closer, Methos decided to head toward it first. As he crossed the veranda he ordered everyone inside.

-----


	52. Chapter FiftyOne

**Chapter Fifty-One  
**

As Robert and Gina raced into the hospital entryway, they noted the fearful expressions on the faces of the mortals camped out there.

Robert whispered to Gina. "Stay here and assuage their fears. I'll check this out."

"Be careful my love," Gina said just before he kissed her. He intended to be very careful. He could feel multiple immortal signatures along one corridor… and while Gina's sword might be a welcome back-up… they also had the mortals to consider.

Tentatively opening the double doors to the darkened corridor… only the security lights flickered on and off and he could see electrical equipment still sparking from the massive Quickening. He positioned his sword as he eased down the hallway.

Upon finding a mortal woman in nurse's clothing, he made certain she was all right, calmed her and indicated that she should join the others at the hospital entrance.

She took one look at his sword, nodded and and raced up the hallway. Robert slowly opened the doors of the ward.

He gasped as noticed in the flickering light, about twenty immortals in hospital gowns… looking pale and thin… gathering in a huddle. At the center he could hear screaming.

Robert licked his lips. "The sleepers have evidently awakened," he said quietly, and wondered what their mental state was. He'd known of them… and that the survivors whose Quickenings had been drained were kept here and watched over by the resident immortals… but he hadn't truly understood or worried about them.

Amdist the screams he could a male voice asking for calm and for the others to back up. His pleas seemed to be falling on deaf ears.

Some of the ones on the outer circle turned to stare at Robert blankly.

"How did I…?"

"Where am I?"

"What's happened?"

"Who are you?

"Where's my sword?"

The questions began to be addressed to Robert as well as to the immortals in their midst.

Robert lowered his weapon, uncertain what to say or how to answer the questions. He noted the body of one of them… headless on a bed. He didn't know her… but even in the dim light, he could see the long red hair tangled about her head. She must have been a rare beauty in her time

Gina seemed to see through his eyes. _Françesca_ she seemed to say within his mind.

_You know her?_

_Françesca Corolli. Long ago… before I met you. She was from ancient Rome, I think… or perhaps Etruscan._ Gina seemed to almost sob and then was silent.

Robert turned back toward the others, looking into their frightened eyes as he tried to see anyone he knew… anyone he might reach. But he knew none of them.

"Please, everyone," the man at the center of the group was saying. "I can explain everything… just get back. She can't help you." He met Robert's gaze. "If you can help… do so!" He pulled the whimpering female to her feet and pushed through the crowd. "Get her out of here. She can't help them and she has no idea what she's done." He pushed the woman into Robert's arms and then turned back to meet the pleas and hands of the others.

Supporting the female in his arms, Robert stepped out once more into the deserted corridor. He backed her up to one wall and tried to get her attention. Words didn't work so he grasped her chin in one hand while the other, still holding his sword, was pressed against her chest. "Who are you? How did you get here?"

She screamed and closed her eyes as she shuddered in his hands. Robert sheathed his sword in his coat and clasped both of her arms.

"Who are you? I won't hurt you! What's happened here?"

Hearing the doubledoors leading to the lobby he open… he saw Pierson come racing through. The man slowed to a stop as he saw the female Robert was holding. "Sarah?" he said.

She responded to his voice… or perhaps to his use of her name. She turned toward him, struggling to get free. "Thank God, Ben! You're here! He made me tell him where you might be… I didn't want to do it!"

Robert stepped away from her and watched as she flew into Pierson's arms. He looked surprised and then concerned. He held her a moment and then stepped back, holding her lightly on the arms. "Kingsley? Is that who brought you? Whay does he want me?"

"Not you," she insisted as she shook her head. "He wants some immortal you know named Gerard." She struggled to clasp him close. He let her while he looked about. "What happened here?" he asked Robert.

"I think she killed one of the sleepers. They're awake. There's an immortal in there now trying to calm them down."

"It was horrible," Sarah burst out. "They were just lying there. They were prisoners. I didn't mean to kill one… just that black immortal who wouldn't talk to me. Then they woke up and came for me. Oh Ben… hold me. I've so wanted you to hold me."

Pierson held her but Robert could see his face. He wasn't happy. Then Pierson pushed her back. "I have to check on how Carl is handling the others. Robert… take Sarah to the lobby. Wait there with Gina. Be careful. There may be another immortal still about." He released Sarah and entered the ward.

Robert grabbed Sarah's arm as she tried to follow Pierson. "Come with me." He pulled her along to the lobby where Gina was calming the mortals down and soothing their concerns. He noticed the middle-aged constable who was especially concerned.

"Is the doctor taking care of things?" the constable asked. More quietly he whispered in Robert's ear. "My name is Nikos. I know something of your kind. Please… how can I help."

"The doctor is seeing to things now," Robert replied with a smile, hoping that he meant Pierson. "The main thing is to calm everyone. Is there someplace else they can go?"

The constable shook his head, "They are refugees from the _tsunami_. They lost their homes and the _patron_ said they could remain here until their homes were fixed."

Robert sighed and looked around. "Please… everyone. It's all right. It was a freak electrical outage of some equipment."

"What about the eruption on the volcana?" asked one woman. "I never saw anything like it."

There was a general murmur and Robert heard something about a freak storm about twelve years before and several others agreeing.

"I'm certain it's fine," Robert assured them. "After all… the volcano is extinct. Perhaps someone was just setting off…"

A cry went up from many of them. Robert turned, feeling the arrival of another immortal. His eyes widened slightly as he saw an immortal he had only briefly met when he and Gina had been rescued.

Cries of "P_atron!_" went up. _Then this would be the one called Phillip, _thought Robert.

Phillip threaded through the crowd. "Robert de Valicourt?" he asked. Robert nodded. Then he turned toward Sarah. "He's dead and can't hurt you," he said flatly. Then he looked at the hallway. Looking back at Robert he asked sharply. "Who's with Carl?"

"Pierson," replied Robert, rightly assuming Carl must be the black immortal.

"Wait here," Phillip said in a clipped tone, and pushed through the doors.

-----

Once he reached the ward and the confusion there, Phillip sighed deeply and stepped to Methos' side. "Could you use some help?"

Methos smirked at him. "Have you been to the villa? Eleanor is worried sick about you!"

Phillip shrugged. "I stopped on the way back. She's worried about you… afraid someone threatening was here."

"Sarah Manning," replied Methos quietly.

"Oh," Phillip chuckeled. "that ought to be interesting." He turned toward the newly-awakened immortals. "I have a feeling they're hungry. What say I get food services up and running." With a lift in his step, he headed out the door. "And what should I do about Ms. Manning?"

Methos sighed as he shook his head. He had no idea what to do with her. Right now, he needed to focus on the immortals here as he continued trying to answer the questions of the awakened sleepers. Carl was beginning to make some headway as he explained his own experience to them. Some of them had been unconsious closer to twenty years, having been among some of Henry Rawlins' early victims. Others had lost only the last twelve years of their lives. Somehow… it would work itself out.

-----

Hours later, flush with the aftermath of love and still entangled in Eleanor's embrace in their bed, Methos finally felt that he was at last home, and he had no plans to leave again anytime soon… no matter what. "I'm sorry I couldn't find him," he murmured finally, almost hating to spoil the mood. He laced his fingers with Eleanor's and held her bare arm up so that he could kiss the soft area where her arm bent at the elbow.

"Derrick or Duncan?" she replied.

"Both, I guess."

"Well… Duncan's a big boy. He'll be in touch when he can. Besides, I have a feeling Amanda won't give up until she finds him."

"And Derrick?"

Eleanor was silent a moment. Then she shifted in his embrace and settled once more into his arms. A momentary flare of a shared memory as her leg rubbed against his made him smile. They were in Scotland and he'd been teaching Derrick to ride horses. Eleanor had been sitting on the fence watching them both. "Derrick isn't a boy. We have to trust that he knows what he's doing. We have to let the child we knew go… so that the man might yet find a way back to us."

"Can you do that?"

She sighed and was quiet for a moment. "Do I have a choice?" she laughed. "The real focus for a while will have to be on the sleepers. We have to help them get acclimated and make arrangements for them to reclaim their lives…"

"… and not let them know too much about other things." By other things… he was thinking of the children… theirs and Grace's new-born daughter.

Eleanor nodded. Tthe sooner they're gone from here… the better." She turned to face him. "Do you really think MacLeod helped father a child with Kate?"

"Amanda thought so too. Time will tell."

"I just hope that everything will work out. I saw how difficult it was for Grace with all of us to help her. I wonder if Duncan and Craille and even Amanda will be enough for Kate."

"I worried about you," Methos reminded her slowly.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Now about Ms. Manning," she teased.

Methos groaned and bent to kiss her. "We'll talk about her tomorrow."

Eleanor did not pursue the conversation. She was far more interested in Methos' other plans for the night.

-----

Ensconsed in one of the spare bedrooms at the villa, Sarah sat huddled alone in the bed. She'd met Ben's "wife" briefly and had not been impressed… even though she was apparently an immortal. At least Kingsley was dead… Sarah was thankful for that… but the bed felt cold and empty.

She wanted Ben. Slowly she began to lay her plans. Hearing a baby cry elsewhere in the house made her wonder what the immortals here were about. Well she planned on remaining… as long as they'd let her. She would have Ben Adams before long. She was certain of it.

-----

_It isn't fair! _

Kenny still couldn't talk or write. He'd tried since learning that Carl could and that the others had awakend. There went his chance to get some easy heads! He should have healed completely too! The fact that Carl had likely been healed because he'd been present at the Quickening while Kenny had been here did nothing to relieve his anger. _It should have been me_! he seethed.

Pulling a hunting knife from under his mattress, he unsheathed it partway and grinned. If he relaxed and played along, someone would turn their back to him sooner or later. Maybe Greg… maybe Denis or Denara… maybe Eleanor… maybe even the Swordmaster himself.

Kenny grinned mischievously. Yes… why not Phillip. He'd locked his sword back in the safe but hadn't noticed that the knife was gone. Kenny had worried about that moment when he'd laid the sword in the safe and stared at its contents. But he'd just shut the door and spun the lock.

Now Kenny was armed… and the Swordmaster wasn't.

_Patience!_ he thought to himself._ Patience!_ There would be only one of them one day… and Kenny wanted it to be him.

-----

Phillip stood at the French doors of his room and stared out at the darkness of the island. He had no desire to sleep. Kingsley's Quickening and memories stirred in his mind but he kept pushing them down. He didn't want to admit them into his consciousness. Still… the pressure to visit them fully… make them a part of him was great. One of the reasons he'd stopped accepting challenges… why he'd tried so often to find another way… was that he'd begun to sense his own proclivity toward wanting to immerse himself in the memories of the immortals he'd had to kill… and revel in their activities… activities that he'd over the millennia found distasteful.

He'd conquered his own darkness long ago… but to keep it conquered… he'd had to withdraw from the Game. Evidently Methos had discovered much the same in his life. Above on the mountaintop as he'd accepted Kingsley's Quickening, he'd heard Nestor laughing in intimate companionship… as if he were returning to his old teacher's side. But he wouldn't… he couldn't. Too many were depending on him.

And still the vision of a cowering Sarah Manning… subject to his every whim… flowed through him. One of Phillip's hands clenched as he considered choking the life out of her. Or if not her… Jayne, Eleanor or Grace. Or perhaps one of the small ones. Denara was devoted to him. She would be so easy to control.

Phillip angrily shook his head. "No! I will not do it!" But the vision of walls coated with the splatter of blood would not fade.

-----

Greg finally tip-toed out of the beroom to give Grace and John some privacy. He carried their daughter to his room and settled onto the bed… still holding her. He was fearful of letting her out of his sight. She seemed so tiny and so depedent on him and the others… it was what he needed to do. Stretching out on the bed… he curled his arms around her and laid one hand on her tiny chest.

"Hope," he murmured. It was the perfect name. "You are the proof that any of us can manage this if we give up some part of what we are. And I would give it all to you. If it means you can have a long life… I would give it all to you."

Gradually he slept… secure in the grasp of the future that they were helping to forge.

-----


	53. Chapter Fifty Two

Chapter Fifty-Two  
**Goa, India, September 30, 2023: **

_Lady Ambergris II_ rocked gently in the waves offshore from the Western Indian town of Goa. They'd traversed the Indian Ocean without adventure and had generally enjoyed the trip. Masahiro had continued his training sessions with the other immortals, Cassandra had kept her distance from them all… and said little if anything… and Derrick had spent his nights in the cabin with Amber. During the day, he'd steered their little group toward the sub-continent without a word or a worried look.

In fact, they'd stopped at several coastal towns when they'd arrived at the Indian sub-continent… taking time to see and experience the magic that was India. They'd traveled slowly up the coast… intrigued by the people and customs.

In groups or in pairs, they explored the coastal cities and villages. As always, Derrick was drawn to the depressed areas of the cities, where he spent time listening and talking to the residents. Amber stayed by his side… worried that if she were here… someone would attack him… and yet fearful not to there. Gradually, as the days passed, the imminent threat of death faded from their minds.

In Goa, Derrick paused as wedding procession passed on the streets. Some prayer beads were tossed near them. Derrick picked them up, letting them wrap about his hands. He reverently pressed his palms together, letting the beads dangle from them, and bowed at the holy men in the procession. Amber listened to the jangling of the brass instruments and the sing-song chants of a language she did not know. The world seemed fully at peace.

Once the procession had passed, Derrick grabbed her hand as they threaded their way through the milling crowd. They'd become separated from some of the others during the procession, but he didn't seem worried.

Amber glanced around for the others though. She'd insisted quietly to the others that they not allow Derrick to go anywhere alone. She'd noticed Cassandra's worried looks at every port stop… and every time Derrick left the ship. But she said nothing, as if fearing that to say anything would make it so. Although Amber knew that Cassandra had basically seduced Derrick to protect him… she had yet to fully forgive her. She didn't blame her for her own leaving… or for trying to distract Derrick… but she couldn't quite let go of the fact that Derrick had made love to her.

"We've lost Burke and Wingate," she murmured as he pulled her along.

"They'll be along… or we'll meet up back at the ship." He seemed unconcerned as he shrugged. "You worry too much." Gradually his enthusiasm for working with some of the people of the area and showing her the sights of this foreign city lulled her into a false sense of security. It was a mistake. Fate has a way of insisting on its path and its victims. No matter how people try to avoid fate… the more it comes after them… and the worse it can sometimes be.

They'd just finished speaking with a group of beggars and had moved on when both of them felt the immortal. Derrick looked up and around while Amber looked behind them at the passing pedestrians. She saw no one looking at them.

"If we head back to the ship now," she started.

Derrick nodded without protest as they threaded their way back the way they came. But the presense of the other immortal followed them.

"What if it's Burke or Wingate or one of the others?" she tried again.

Derrick shook his head. "I don't think so. We stay in the crowd."

Amber agreed. If they were in the crowded streets, an attack was unlikely. But the mass of people in the wedding procession was blocking their way any further along the main thoroughfare.

Derrick looked about and then pulled Amber along into an alleyway to try and circle around the crowd. But it was a mistake. He knew it immediately as the elusive immortal presence seemed to be with them. After several attempts to go further, he ducked into an alley strung with laundry and faced Amber… holding her at arm's length.

"You need to go," he finally said. "There's something I want you to do."

"I canna go," she protested and then stopped. Cassandra's words hung in her memory. "You do something that causes his death."

Derrick shook her as he gripped her arms more tightly. "Promise me you'll do as I say. This is important!"

Amber nodded as tears welled into her eyes.

Derrick pulled the Great Sword from the lightweight coat she'd made him wear… fearful of his being off the ship without the sword. He opened her coat and pulled her cutlass out before securing the larger broadsword within it. Then he hid the cutlass in his coat. "Now listen to me carefully. I've had time to think this through. I don't want that sword to fall into the wrong hands. I need for you to take it to my sister on the Greek Island of Niebos."

"She's there?"

"Honestly? I don't' know. I do know that Phillip is likely there… and that he will contact her if she isn't. Promise me this Amber. You will give the sword to no one but her. It's important. Others may want it after I'm dead… but Ellie should have it. She knows what it is."

"I don't want you to die!"

He held her closely a moment. "I don't want to die… and maybe… if I send you away… it won't happen. Nevertheless… I want you and the sword gone. You have to leave me. Return to the ship. If I'm not there by nightfall… you and Caspar go over the charts I've made. They'll take you to Niebos by the shortest route." He kissed her tenderly.

Amber clung to him, not wanting him to go, but he held her at arm's length, winked at her and then took off down the alley. Passing amongst the lean-to's and shacks, he was soon out of her sight. She laid her arm on the wall of the building and her face on her arm as she sobbed for some moments. She felt utterly bereft. Finally she straightened and wiped her eyes. She turned to leave the alley. That's when she heard it.

At first it seemed more like a buzzing cloud of insects angrily swarming around her. Amber paused shaking her head. And then she heard a voice amidst the buzzing.

_Use me to protect him!_

Amber looked about, seeking the source of the whisper. She slipped a hand inside her coat and felt the hilt of the Great Sword. It seemed unusually warm to her touch… and it seemed to pulse. The insect sounds were more like many voices gradually becoming one voice.

_Follow him! Protect him!_

Amber closed her eyes. She could imagine the scene… Derrick on the ground with his opponent over him… ready to strike. She could… do what? Interfere? Amber shook her head. "Interfering in a challenge is forbidden!" She knew the rules. Connor had hammered them into her. But what if she got there before the fight began?

Amber looked back over her shoulder.

She'd promised him she'd go to the ship. But if there was a way to help… shouldn't she? On the other hand… Cassandra's warning rang in her thoughts: _He dies because you are there… because of something you do._ If she wasn't there… then maybe he'd be all right.

_Protect!_

_What was this thing?_ Amber's hand released the hilt. The buzzing of a thousand insects returned and she felt like they were crawling all over. Her spine tingled with the feel of them… her head seemed swaddled with them. Her mouth dry, Amber took a step back into the alley and then froze.

_What must I do?_ The thought was hers. She felt like everything might depend on the choice she made here… right now. Should she do as Derrick had made her promise? Return straightaway to the ship and let Derrick face this opponent alone? Or should she follow him? Should she be there to help him… or at least to kill his killer? Amber's heart was torn in two.

_What must I do?_

-----

As he moved through the alleys of Goa, Derrick could feel the other keep pace with him. No matter which way he turned… the other was there… someplace out of sight… perhaps on the rooftops. The main thing was to lead him away from habited areas so that mortals would not see… would not be hurt.

He'd considered pushing through to the ship… but this had to be dealt with if he was to have any future at all. Cassandra had given him the clue on how to avoid it. If he sent Amber away, maybe he'd have the chance. He just prayed that she would not follow him. He worried that if she were present, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on his opponent. He'd be worried about her… and then he'd make a mistake. Derrick understood that his entire focus needed to be on his unknown opponent.

Racing out into a field of tall grass, Derrick glanced back at the outskirts of the town and kept moving. At first, his shadow seemed to have left him, perhaps thrown by his leaving the protection of the buildings; but as he moved through the fields and along the riverbank, his shadow returned.

"Find your ground," Methos had told him once, "and then be prepared."

As he raced through the tall grass, Derrick watched for a level spot, free of debris that would be suitable for a fight. It didn't need to be big… just big enough to accommodate the two combatants. Mentally he began to measure areas he saw until he found one… near a small grove of twisted trees.

He screeched to a halt and turned to face the figure only now becoming visible. He was Middle-Eastern… slightly shorter than Derrick, dressed in light cotton pants and shirt… with the inevitable lightweight coat. In this heat, Derrick knew that immortals with their coats must look odd to mortals unaware of them or the game. Even at this distance, Derrick could see that he had a goatee and dark piercing eyes. The immortal pulled a curious sword… a scimitar with a _kris_ edge on the cutting side of the blade… from his coat even as he shrugged out of it and tossed it aside. He meant business.

Derrick sighed and cricked his neck. He needed every advantage he'd ever learned… and he needed to concentrate. Already he could tell that this man masked his intentions well.

When the immortal reached the edge of the clearing he glanced around. "I approve. You chose well."

"Who are you?" Derrick asked. "Why are you after me?"

The man chuckled. "I am Kabir Hassani. I have been looking for you for centuries."

"Me? I haven't been around for centuries."

"In hiding?"

Derrick shook his head. "You misunderstand. I'm less than a century old." He didn't want Kabir to know how young he truly was. Even so, his opponent raised an eyebrow.

"I do not understand? My first teacher knew you. I saw your face in his memories when I took his head and his sword for my own." He gestured with the scimitar. "This is the sword of Eden that God put into the hands of the angel when he drove mankind from perfection. It is the guardian of the past… the flame of the dawn."

When Kabir moved, Derrick did notice that the sword's edge caught the light and seemed to be living flame. He shrugged off his own coat as he pulled out Amber's cutlass. "Don't know what to tell you mate. I'm too young to have known him."

"That is not your sword!" Kabir thundered. "My master saw you with a great broadsword in your hands. He said you had it with you when you trained with him long before I was even born into the game."

Derrick shrugged again with a laugh. "What you see is what you get."

Kabir pointed at him. "Then you have hidden it. I will learn its location when I take your head."

"Then bring it on," Derrick said calmly… a calm he didn't truly feel. His heart was pounding and his knees felt week.

"He foresaw our meeting in this place…. my victory. He said that two of the ancient weapons of the game would at last be re-united."

"There's just me. I'm not who you're looking for."

Kabir raised the scimitar overhead with both hands and set himself as he grimaced. "Prepare to die then young one."

Derrick turned sideways, best for the lighter-weight cutlass, and put his left hand behind his left hip. He'd have to concentrate on this style… and not fall into a trap. Both blades were single-edged, slicing weapons, whereas the broadsword was double-edged. Amber's sword was well cared for and extremely sharp. He'd practiced with it several times, and was accustomed to its weight… but he'd have to be very careful not to fall into a trap. He had a feeling that Kabir expected and had trained for a certain kind of fight. Derrick would have to surprise him.

The two men rushed one another… their blades clashing and sparks flying into the air as they met. Then both continued past their opponent, stopped turned and re-set. This time Derrick held the cutlass low. Kabir raised the scimitar overhead again… but swung it down and then back up in a slightly different position as he turned slightly. He grinned.

Derrick motioned with the fingers of his left hand for him to come on. Kabir lunged again. Derrick backed up and turned… carefully blocking the scimitar's deadly path. The slender cutlass rang and reverberated with the force of the blows. He had a feeling it wouldn't stand up too long to the power and strength of the older blade. Still… if he was careful… he might survive.

For several moments the combatants swords crossed and re-crossed as they circled around one another. Derrick was feeling the heat and the humidity take its toll. During one respite, he wiped the sweat from his face while Kabir grinned.

"You are from a northern clime, yes? Not accustomed to our tropical one." Then he lunged forward again, giving Derrick little time to catch his breath. The man's moves were inventive and intricate. Some Derrick knew… while others were surprising. Derrick remained focused on Kabir's menacing eyes… hoping he'd catch the slight tells that would give him a clue as to what the man planned next. So far he'd been lucky… very lucky.

Kabir rushed again, this time executing a complex set of steps and sword moves as he turned. Derrick managed to avoid all but one blow that ripped across his back. He turned as it hit and managed to avoid a deep cut.

Laughter erupted from Kabir. "For such a young innocent… you are very well trained."

Derrick winced slightly at the burning wound across his back and flinched. "Yeah… all my teachers said so." He shrugged it off, determined to be ready for the next move. He shifted his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet as he crouched slightly. The bent posture caused the back wound to burn… but it would heal… given time… it would heal. He had yet to draw blood from his opponent. Perhaps it was time.

The elder immortal circled around Derrick… watching his every move… trying to fathom what the young man was planning. _He is hard to read, this one_, he thought. _He seems so relaxed and gives no clue to his next move. _Kabir didn't for a moment truly believe that this immortal was as young as he claimed. His blue eyes… blue like the sky overhead… had haunted him for almost fifteen hundred years, ever since he'd beheaded Ahasuerus, the Parthian. The entire time he'd been the Parthian's student, the man had taunted him with tales of his "other" student and his abilities. But he'd never given him a name. Well names were easily changed, Kabir had realized. But that face… those eyes. He'd seen them in the Quickening… in some vision that Ahasuerus had once had. And he'd seen the clash of weapons. He'd searched for centuries for someone who bore that weapon. He'd taken the _kris_-edged scimitar from Ahasuerus; he'd coveted it since he'd first seen it. Its hilt felt comfortable in his hand. In fifteen hundred years… it had become a part of him. He trilled a cry and sliced with full power at his opponent.

Derrick had to use both hands on the cutlass to fend off Kabir's blows. He was so busy backing up that he was unable to launch an attack. Reaching the edge of the clearing, he dived and rolled to one side, coming up behind Kabir. He landed one good blow on the back of the man's leg as he came up, before his opponent turned and began again.

Kabir howled his rage as he hopped back and swung the scimitar back and forth. His weight was on his good leg.

Derrick lashed out… putting up a flurry of blows… making the most of his momentary advantage. And still Kabir blocked him. Then the elder immortal flipped his scimitar and tried to stab Derrick's chest. The young man hopped out of reach and set his defense. Evidently Kabir's leg was better… even though he was still limping as he circled again.

Both men were breathing in ragged gasps.

Kabir lunged again and Derrick avoided the attack… fending off the blows as he moved around and back. _I'm giving up too much ground!_ He thought. _He's controlling the speed and position of this fight!_ Derrick knew he had to control at least a series of moves. He needed an advantage.

Kabir flipped the scimitar again, in mid stab, so that it just missed Derrick's neck as he ducked and moved off.

"You cannot run forever," Kabir was saying. "I will run you down and take all the power and knowledge you possess. I have met many strong ones over the centuries. You… are… nothing."

Derrick refused to rise to the bait. "That's what I tried to tell you. I'm not the immortal you think I am." He refused to say more as he moved back and tried to catch his breath. He still focused on Kabir… seeking an opening… seeking anything that would help him.

His words… such as they were had the effect he wanted. Kabir lunged forward with another flurry of two-handed blows… so like an earlier set of moves… that Derrick easily avoided them. This time… no blood was drawn by either man. At one point they clutched one another and circled… their swords momentarily useless. Then Kabir pushed Derrick away.

"Smart… very smart young one. But you cannot beat me. I have foreseen the end."

"Yeah? Well as a friend of mine once said… the future is in _flux_… constantly changing." He wiped at his brow with his free hand and hefted the cutlass. He flicked the sweat from his fingers with a grin.

Kabir drew his scimitar to a vertical position as he seemed to draw into himself, and became still… very… very still. Derrick could not fathom what his plan of attack would be. He sensed that something was coming… something that would surprise him. He put both hands on the cutlass and held it before him in an easy grip… feigning a relaxation and confidence that he did not feel. He prayed that Kabir was reading that… and not the fear and trepidation thatDerrick was feeling.

Then the elder immortal whirled swiftly counter-clockwise… swiftly positioning his sword so that it was aimed to slice like an electric buzz-saw. Derrick barely avoided it… and in that move, was tripped up by an exposed root. He rolled and scrambled to his feet… barely avoiding a direct blow. He did get a glancing one on his sword-arm. He flinched as he moved away… his arm both numb and throbbing with pain. It didn't make sense… but that was how it felt. He held it stiffly while he limped slowly about. His ankle where he'd tripped was also throbbing. _Damn! Watch your footing!_ he told himself. He'd missed seeing that root. The next time he might not get off so lucky. Again he eased onto the balls of his feet so that he felt light on them… ready to move and change direction as needed.

Kabir no longer looked quite so confident in the outcome of this fight. His eyes betrayed his confusion and his anger. _I can use that_, Derrick thought. He lunged forward suddenly… his sword in slicing moves, which Kabir easily deflected. Then Derrick whirled, raising the cutlass and tried for an underhanded slice across Kabir's mid-section. He felt the satisfaction of the solid connection. He pulled the cutlass sharply and felt it slice through flesh easily. Derrick continued the turn and backed off… immediately ready for Kabir's answering move.

But the man backed up… one hand on his stomach, where a red bloom of blood was spreading. "That hurts," he hissed. In a mortal man, it would have been a fatal wound. In an immortal… it was merely an inconvenience… provided he healed before he passed out from loss of blood.

Derrick decided to press the advantage… make Kabir have to defend… keep him moving… and keep the wound open and pumping precious blood. He began another attack.

But this time, it was Kabir whose feigning pain drew him in. Suddenly Derrick realized that the elder immortal was launching a another series of blows aimed not for him but Amber's cutlass. He was fending them off before he realized his mistake. The blade shattered… the tip of it flying off. The next blow disarmed him and the hilt went flying into the air where it somersaulted and then pierced the earth.

Derrick kept moving. He had no time to think about what he'd done wrong… he was unarmed and had to prevent that scimitar from slicing through his neck. He had one chance. Swiftly he dove and rolled to grasp the hilt of the broken cutlass and hope to thrust it into his opponent's gut. He'd worry about the head later.

As he rolled to his back he saw the scimitar raised in the air over his head and beginning to descend. The sunlight reflected off of the _kris_-edge so that it indeed, looked like living fire. Derrick had to make his move now. With a sudden cry, he thrust the broken cutlass forward into Kabir's groin, turning it as he did so and slicing to one side.

-----


	54. Epilogue

**Epilogue  
Niebos, Greece, December 13, 2023:**

The silhouette of the distinctive dormant volcano that was the main feature of this small island, was gray and green as it rose above the turquoise sea.

Amber leaned on the rail of the _Lady Ambergris II_ and watched the island seem to grow in size off of the port bow. The fresh breeze off the island smelled of fish and she could see fishing boats in the harbor, moored in slips along a great stone dock. Construction was evident along the waterfront. The island had not been especially hard-hit during the recent _tsunami_, but there had been damage. Yet the villagers were re-building, and life went on for the survivors she supposed.

After leaving Goa, they'd cut across to Africa and then eased up through the Suez Canal and into the eastern Mediterranean known as the Aegean Sea. Here, amongst the small islands dotting the seascape, they'd finally come to the island of Niebos… an island not easily found on most charts… but one that they'd found nevertheless.

Burke and David called out to men on the dock and tossed hawsers to shore. David leaped easily to the dock and helped tie them off. Shortly later, the entire party gathered and descended to the dock where they asked and received directions.

Looking at the sprawling white villa halfway up the mountainside, Amber was filled with trepidation. They were about to meet another group of immortals who might or might not welcome them. To Amber… the idea of immortals living and working together… not fighting… was still foreign and worrisome. The ones on _Lady Ambergris II_ had slowly gotten to know one another… and had slowly forged their alliances. It had been a long slow process. But here they were… ready to be in the midst of another group… and not at all certain as to how they would be received.

Michelle clasped one of Amber's hands and gave her a small smile of encouragement as they began to climb the mountain. For some reason, Amber had the oddest feeling that they were pilgrims seeking a new world.

-----

Eleanor looked about the empty ward and smiled. Since the sleeping ones had awakened six weeks ago, the ward had gradually emptied. Immortals were blessed with great constitutions, and it had not taken long for most of them to regain the strength and health they'd physically lost during their years in the coma. One by one… or sometimes in small groups… they'd been anxious to return to their lives. Some of them had lost nearly twenty years, being among some of the first ones that Rawlins and his people had captured.

Once they'd regained strength, many had been uncomfortable remaining unarmed among other immortals. Perhaps if MacLeod had been here… he might have made some inroads into getting them to trust the island's immortal residents and each other. But there had been no word from MacLeod in all this time.

Eleanor and the others had managed to keep the secret of Grace's daughter and the knowledge of the existence of Eleanor's two children from the awakees. Until more was known about them… and how they would handle the modern world… the secret of the children had to remain with those who knew it. It was not yet time to present their existence to the world.

Like the others, Carl, too, had finally left the island. Capable once more of communicating with others around him, he was anxious to be gone. He'd sworn to keep the secrets here. He thought perhaps that he'd see if he could find others who might be ready to join them. John had been saddened to see Carl go… but had understood and had wished him well on his journey.

Kenny remained with them. His voice and ability to communicate had not returned. Eleanor, Methos and Phillip had discussed the boyman's ulterior motives… but in the end had agreed to watch him. They'd rather have him where they could watch him than for him to be free in the world.

So far, Kenny had been satisfied to spend time with Denis and J. D., especially when they searched the beaches. Dead marine life had washed up on the shores several times in recent weeks… but there was no sign of Chou's body. The carcasses tended to upset J. D. when they found them. Most had been chewed on by smaller marine animals, and were in varying stages of decay. Her son still had nightmares… and still blamed himself for what had happened to his friend.

One awakee had remained with them. When Katherine Sutherland had died and been captured, she'd been trying to save the life of her mortal husband, Nick Sutherland. The sword that had pierced her chest… had pierced Nick's as well. Her last cognizant thought had been that Nick was dying. She'd awakened to the realization that not only was he dead, but that it had happened so long ago that there was no body to tend to, and no way to publicly grieve. Her life in the world was gone. Having been a healer centuries before, she asked and had been granted permission to remain on the island and had been allowed, once the other awakees had left, to meet the children.

Katherine had gently held the infant Hope and had sobbed silently for some time. Finally she'd looked up at Grace and wondered aloud if immortals could have children with mortals. One would have to have been blind not to understand her palpable grief over having lost Nick before his time. Grace didn't know. It was on her research agenda.

Since Greg and Grace were spending more time with Hope at present, Katherine's presence helped take some of the responsibility for the hospital from Eleanor's shoulders. After all… she and Methos and their children did not plan on remaining here. Indeed… they'd likely leave once the holidays had passed. Eleanor was eager to return to a quiet life.

Methos, however, was hedging about when. The nine caskets had arrived this past week and he and Phillip had been unpacking the artifacts and spreading them out on the floor in Phillip's study. Eleanor had heard her husband "ooh" and "aah" as he unpacked them, recognizing pre-Colombian funerary masks, Sumerian tablets, Egyptian stele with aplomb. He reverently touched them all and offered them to her sight as if to say "see."

Eleanor found it amusing. She'd seen them many times over the years. Hell she'd found and given most of them to Darius for his collection but had never known why. She'd just seen them and thought they'd interest the priest. They did not interest her. Eleanor had a feeling that they wouldn't be leaving for a while… despite their plans to the contrary. But as long as they were together again, she was content.

If there was one fly in the ointment these days, it was the continued presence of Sarah Manning. The woman had seen and learned things here… and Phillip was unwilling to just let her leave. That seemed to suit Sarah. At every opportune moment… she was close to "Ben" or Adam as the others called him for safety's sake. After all… Methos didn't want her knowing anything… but he did seem to feel that he owed her civility. "She's had a hard life. Maybe we can change her," he'd told Eleanor. She snorted in disdain. Eleanor had a feeling that Sarah Manning was playing a dangerous game and wanted one thing only… "Adam" once more in her bed. Eleanor wondered how far the former prostitute would go to pursue her intentions.

As for Duncan and Amanda… they hadn't heard anything from either of them in the last few weeks. Duncan hadn't even called to see if the artifacts had arrived safely. It was as if he were avoiding them. If he were searching for Kate and her unborn child, as Methos expected, then he likely wouldn't be heard from for a while… at least not until he'd found them… and the child was born. Amanda was focused on finding Duncan and standing by him in whatever capacity he'd allow. That, at least bode well for the couple to move to the next stage. Once again, as she had first done with Nick Wolfe several years ago after Nestor had crippled him, Amanda was putting someone else ahead of herself.

The de Valicourt couple had stayed only a day or so before whisking away on the helicopter to reclaim Robert's private jet in Athens. Seeing the island had reminded Robert that he, too, owned an island… in the Caribbean… and that it had been some time since the couple had spent any time there. He'd once used it as the base for his pirate activities.

"We can have a second… or a tenth or something honeymoon, Gina. You, me, the residents of St. Leone. We can make our own paradise."

Gina evidently had agreed. Eleanor supposed that only time would tell if the couple's unity bond was for the best. While Gina had found the immortal children interesting… she did not seem interested in having any. "I have Robert," she'd said. It was true. As long as the couple was more interested in one another… children ought to wait. Eleanor had sincere doubts that children would ever be in their lives… but she could be wrong. After all… she'd never dared hope that she and Methos would ever have any together.

But they had… with Darius and Phillip's help.

Phillip's demeanor and activities since killing Kingsley also worried Eleanor. It was nothing that she could put her finger on… just his expressions sometimes. There were circles about his eyes as if he weren't sleeping well, and often he seemed to stare off into the distance, grinding his teeth. Eleanor knew that feeling from the few Quickenings she'd taken… that sense of being someone else.

But Phillip was so much older than she was. Maybe it was just that it had been a while since he'd been in the game. He still went every day to the cove to check on Valeraine. Eleanor had offered to go with him several times, hoping he'd take the time to talk to her about what he was feeling. But he'd insisted that he needed to go alone. He had always gone alone… Nestor was his problem… not theirs.

The only one who seemed to bring out the old Phillip was Marianna. She'd see him staring off into the distance and would pull on his leg or his arm and he would warmly lift her into his arms or onto his lap. He'd smile and joke with her. She adored her "_Opa_" and he clearly adored her. Of them all… she seemed most able to bring him back to himself… much as she'd brought Kenny back to wakefulness.

Eleanor wondered at Marianna's gifts and powers… if they existed at all. Or was it simply that much of Phillip was in her small form… that she understood the old Greek better than her elders ever could.

"Puzzles to be solved," Eleanor said aloud, hearing the echo of her words about the empty ward. She turned off the lights, closed the door and headed out of the hospital and across the path toward the villa. It was late afternoon and she had the thought that perhaps she and Methos and the children could go to the far side of the island and have a picnic supper… just the four of them. They needed to have time apart as a family… and that might be one way they could accomplish that.

Methos had admitted that he and J. D. had some problems to work out. If J. D. was resentful of Methos' other obligations, then he needed to show the boy that he was indeed one of the top priorities of his life. Spending time together without the others around might help.

She hummed some bit of tune while she sauntered along the path, ignoring the tendency to skip and dance as she might have once done. The weather was still warm, the sky was clear, and things on Niebos had once more settled into a peaceful routine. Life was good.

As she approached the terraced side of the villa, she was immediately aware of the feel of a number of extra immortals. She could see them, huddled in a small crowd at the edge of the veranda. Feeling her approach, they looked back at her. Eleanor could see Cassandra in the group. Then she noticed Michelle Webster and David Keogh. Curious, she drew closer.

They separated for her and she could see whom they were gathered about. Methos stood in the center, his hands on J. D.'s shoulders. But it was Marianna beside them who held her attention. Her small daughter was twisting back and forth and laughing at an immortal crouched before her. Eleanor froze and then gasped as he looked over his shoulder at her and then stood up.

"Derrick!" she cried as she raced toward him, feeling him lift her slightly and hug her in his embrace.

"I'm here Ellie. I'm finally here."

#30#

* * *

Story continues in **Volume 2** of this series: **_To Reclaim the Past_**

The crystal glowed in Marianna's chubby hands. "Ooh… pretty," she said. The expression on her face was filled with wonder and joy.

Denara looked about fearfully. "Maybe you should put that back," the small one lisped. "It's not yours."

Marianna met her friend's eyes. "It's okay. She wants me to hold it."

"_She_?" asked Denara curiously. The crystal belonged to Derrick. Who was _She_?

* * *

**Endnotes: **During the writing of this portion of my "little" tale, I realized that I had some problems in my timeline, especially after Kate showed up out of the blue one day and insisted on having a child. I argued with her... but she was right. It gave a reason for Duncan to be absent for a time in the story, and another way to explore this new aspect of immortal lives. I spent a good deal of time thinking through the events and eventually decided to return to my original plan to end this story at this point... when Derrick arrived. What didn't fit will happen in the next one which is already a work in progress.

One of the difficult aspects of this story was to theorize what things would be like in about twenty years and to posit a future, that seemed to grow naturally out of our present. I discussed technology with some friends and using their input, came up with the phonecard and a new generation of the PPC's that I'd created for the last "future" story. They tell me me that these things are closer than we think.

You will note the continued references to global warming in this story. It's important... and will have a part to play down the road. Next story will also have some nods at a political climate in the world around the immortals. Let me know what you think... especially all of you who are reading but not commenting.

elle


End file.
